Overcome
by Ansujali
Summary: Based on the 2005 movie - picking up the story with the trainwreck proposal in the rain which ends with Darcy actually kissing Lizzy. Having just rejected Darcy's proposal, Lizzy has to come to terms with her conflicting feelings while Darcy has to rethink nearly all aspects of his life to maintain a chance on happiness in their lives.
1. Chapter 1 - Overcome by the moment

_**A/N: This is my first try on a P&amp;P fanfiction, let alone a Regency area story. I'm no JA buff and I'm German – so this story will hassle as much with the canon as with the language. I won't pretend I can do correct Regency talk, but if you find an abominable error, tell me – I'm willing to learn ;-) This is a work in progress – I know the general direction I want to take this but have not worked out all the details yet. Like to read your reviews! Thanks!**_

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CHAPTER 1

**Overcome by the moment**

-~0~-

Darcy's voice dropped to a growling low. „So, _that_ is your opinion of me? Thank you for explaining so fully! Maybe these offenses might have been overlooked if not your pride had been injured by-"

„_My_ pride-?!" Elizabeth interjected, meeting Darcy with disbelief who rode roughshod over her intermission without pause, raising his voice to drown hers out.

„—my honesty in admitting scruples about our relationship! Do you expect me to _rejoice_ in the inferiority of your circumstances?!" He almost spat the last words at her in derision, leaning in and tipping his head slightly, now only mere inches away from her heated face.

Elizabeth looked aghast. „And these are the words of a _gentleman_?" she cried incredulously. Without noticing it, she took a step further towards him, closing the distance between them like a predator, ready to pounce on to him. Her eyes were flashing with fury and anger and had locked fiercely with his.

„From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize you were the last man in the world I could _ever_ be prevailed upon to marry!"

The ensuing silence was deafening although the sound of the pouring rain flooded their ears.

Even through her rage, Elizabeth noticed within an instant that her last words had cut Darcy to the quick as his face suddenly changed colour, paling substantially within the blink of an eye. He pulled back a few inches. All haughtiness and derision was wiped off his features and Elizabeth was stunned to discover a sense of hurt and insecurity in his gaze which had not left her eyes during her tirade. For reasons unbeknownst to her, this observation left her deeply unsettled. Although she had wanted to hurt him in lashing out at him like that, it almost pained her to realize she seemed to have been successful in doing so.

Another second later and the expression on Darcy's face changed again although at first, Elizabeth was at a loss to identify the emotion that suddenly lit his eyes. It was as if he all of a sudden had dropped his guard – his unrestrained, mesmerized gaze now on her lips. He cocked his head and seemed to deliberate about something…

…and then again he leaned in towards her, his eyes never leaving her slightly parted lips, only once flickering up to her eyes as if asking a silent question, pausing his forward movement scarcely noticeable.

His deep gaze made Elizabeth blush wildly and she heard a surge in what seemed her ears, not knowing whether it was the ever pouring rain or her blood rushing to her head. Somewhere deep inside she suddenly felt all thought and fury suspended … leaving only so far unknown feelings and instincts to function … the overwhelming pull to answer his unspoken question, the urge to raise her chin just a bit while getting on her toes to get closer to him, being drawn in by his delicious lips and unguarded, long-lashed eyes which were inexplicably talking to her without words…

… and then – in a soft but swift move bridging the remaining distance between them – Darcy locked his lips to hers.

The sensation that washed over Elizabeth when his soft mouth captured hers in a strong, passionate yet sensitive and sensual kiss sent surges of electricity throughout her body. All the heightened tension she had always felt whenever Darcy was near her now translated into her answering his kiss with the same passion, their tongues meeting and communicating all the mutual attraction they both had experienced over time.

Intoxicated with Darcy's vibrancy, Elizabeth savoured the kiss in all its blazing heat. That very second it seemed like the most natural thing to do, suspending the rain around them, their circumstances, differences, anger, time, even the world's turning must have stopped in this moment that seemed like an eternity.

Then suddenly, the moment was over – thought returned to both. And reason hit them like a lightening bolt.

simultaneously, their eyes opened and they broke the kiss, lingering shortly against one another, then Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock and she pushed herself away from Darcy, panting heavily. Darcy lifted his head slightly and his eyes glittered with disbelief at what had just happened. He frowned.

Elizabeth found her tongue first. She wanted to scream her outrage at Darcy for his behaviour, which was all things ungentlemanly and abominable – basically threatening her reputation in the course of it… but before she could say something she realized in a flash that he might have initiated the kiss but she had obviously participated in it as much as he had. And she had not prevented him from doing so.

Never in her life had she felt so wanton. It was an excruciating thought. And she hated him for it. But even more so herself.

„Lack of propriety, Mr. Darcy?" she said in a low voice, barely more than an angry whisper. „It looks like you were wrong to exclude me from your assessment of my family's inferiority in behaviour. I guess you have proven your point."

Now Darcy's eyes widened with shock and for a moment he looked even scared. Elizabeth assumed in bitterness that it was through her own words that it seemed to dawn on him what kind of abominable woman she was. And it infuriated her to confess he was probably right.

But then again, he was in it with her. Elizabeth took a step towards him again and lowered her voice even more, it now dripping with contempt.

„But don't forget to add _your_ name to the list of people with such lack of propriety. Maybe you are not as superior as you think, after all. Welcome to the dungeon of inferiority."

With this, she turned on her heels and fled the monument through the ever pouring rain, leaving Darcy behind shaken and speechless.


	2. Chapter 2 - Overcome by shame

Updated for correction of some typos.

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CHAPTER 2

**Overcome with shame**

Darcy was stunned senseless by his own actions. He stood stock-still under the roof of the rotunda, his mouth open with words he could not utter, his eyes following Elizabeth as she was hastening away up the sodden path back towards the parsonage.

_Good God, what have I done? _

_I have compromised her. __**Her**__. Of all people. _

_**I**__ of all people. __**I**__ have compromised Elizabeth. _

His eyes blinked rapidly several times in shocked disbelief. How could this have gone so utterly and completely wrong? Desperately, he raised his head to watch the torrential rain pour down from the clouded sky and closed his eyes. Leaning his back heavily against one of the pillars, he tried to make sense of the past minutes.

A moment that he had intended to be the happiest in his life – finally declaring himself after months of torment, asking for her hand in marriage to make her his and fill the aching void in his heart, to fulfil his most ardent dream of a life spent with Elizabeth by his side to love, to hold, to trust – had inexplicably turned into the darkest moment ever, through the utmost disaster of her rejection in the strongest terms, accusing him of conceit, arrogance and selfishness.

He had been so sure of Elizabeth's affection and positive answer to his offer of marriage that he had brought his mother's ring from Pemberley to Rosings. Her determined rejection was something he still could not fathom despite all the reasons Elizabeth had laid out in front of him, leaving him with nothing but a bleak future without her and a heart-broken beyond repair.

Her accusation of separating Bingley from her elder sister pained him because she was true – he had read Miss Bennet's feelings as such of detachment, misjudging her shy affection for his best friend as indifference. He understood that he had made a mistake but believed he would act the same way again – his loyalty towards the people he cared about was without exception and had called for him to interfere as he had believed his friend's heart to be at risk. Yet, he could understand how Elizabeth must have despised him for his role in this unfortunate relationship. That he had highlighted her family's lack of propriety in this matter probably had not helped much, either, judging from the pained look in her eyes. But these eyes had also shown the reluctant acceptance of the truth in his words, as painful as they might have been. He had asked for forgiveness for hurting her with his opinion, but again he could understand that she would hold it against him.

He could _not_ understand, however, how Elizabeth could accuse him of deceiving George Wickham. Wickham, of all things! Instead, during their quarrel his lack of understanding had paired up with a deeply felt rage against the scoundrel who had hurt his sister so significantly and who seemed to have a hand for befuddling the minds and hearts of the women who were dearest to him. On top of his exasperating feeling of rejection and unrequited love for Elizabeth, it had angered him profoundly that she had shown so much interest in Wickham's dealings, let alone that she had believed the scoundrel's twisted tongue. More than she was willing to believe him. That had stung.

But instead of trying to explain – as he had done with Bingley's situation – he had confronted her with this wretched difference in social standing again that she had never denied. Nor had she ever sought his good opinion or asked anything else of him – yes, because she was so enchantingly and profoundly different from all the women of the _ton_ he had met until this point in life. Granted. But also maybe because she knew all too well how different the world's were they were both living in. And his obviously was a source of plain contempt for her. His world of superiority of circumstances.

He shook his head in desperation and combed through his hair with both hands which then rested over his eyes, locking this barren world out.

The ultimate blow was her contempt-laden statement that he would be the last man in the world she would ever marry. No matter how emotionally difficult all the other issues in their argument had been for him, this was the one that brought him to his knees. All the other things could be mended, made whole, rectified. This or the other way. With time. With determination. With commitment. With affection. With love. His love for her. He could have won her over. Perhaps.

But this sentence had slammed the door shut to hope for him on a future with Elizabeth. Had slammed shut the door to love. To a life with meaning. To their children he had pictured so clearly running and laughing her vivid laughter through the halls of Pemberley.

_All my consequence and position, my beloved estate and 10-thousand-a-year – all of which attracted these other women of the _ton_ – all of this would not tempt her to accept me. _

_It is__** me**__. She does not love __**me**__. _

And judging from all she had angrily argued to his face today, she never would. The realization of this truth had been his undoing. Had left him defenseless. Stripped of the shell that usually protected his inner being. And had left him emotionally bare in front of her. All the rage and anger, the hurt and utter loss which had stormed through his heart only seconds before, had suddenly vanished into thin air – and silence had ensued in his soul. The only sparkling flame left burning within him had been his love for her which – somehow – had survived this onslaught of emotion and confrontation unharmed.

And when all the bitter truths and insults had been said and finished with, all that was left of him was him gazing into Elizabeth's eyes - those dancing eyes which had enchanted him the first moment they had met. And those lips. He had not been able to avert his eyes from those. The world had narrowed down to her eyes, her lips, her face – all of which he most likely would never happen to see again.

Something in him had needed to know how she felt - her skin to his skin - to burn the memory into his soul for the lonely years to come. And to be sure she had not just been a dream.

And so he had kissed her.

He could not remember having consciously decided to bend down to her. It just happened. He was in the middle of kissing her before he knew he had begun. Time stopped and her unexpected passionate response to his kiss was all things pure and so full of life that it had elevated him into unknown heights.

He had held his breath as his mouth had released those beautiful, lively, tempting lips his mind had been dreaming of to touch and devour for the last months. For a fleeting moment, just as his lips were still hovering over her face and awareness for their surroundings only started creeping back into his mind again, he had asked himself if this had been just another dream nonetheless - this had felt too good to be true.

_I kissed her._

_And she kissed __**me**__. Passionately._

Not until he had watched Elizabeth's eyes widen in sudden horror, had he come to his full senses and the spell of the moment was broken.

There had been a myriad of emotions dancing over Elizabeth's face after she had pushed him away, none of them friendly. She seemingly had settled on abhorrence and shock, quoting his early opinion of most of her family showing a profound lack of propriety – an assessment she seemed to include herself into now as a result of his inexcusable behaviour.

_I have compromised her. And she blames herself for it._

He was horrified to see that she felt as if she had compromised herself. Which could not be farther from the truth, as the blame was his alone to bear. But at least she knew that he had a large part in the blame as she had accused him of lack of propriety as well.

_Good God, what have I done? _

_I have compromised her. __**Her**__. Of all people. _

_**I**__ of all people. __**I**__ have compromised Elizabeth Bennet, the woman I love. _

He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley, gentleman of the first circles, man of honour, had imposed himself unto an unmarried woman only minutes after she had refused his offer of marriage.

Elizabeth's accusations of his conceit, arrogance and selfish disdain for the feelings of others rang loudly in his ears.

_**A/N: Well done, Darcy! Big sticky mess you left there in the rain.  
More real talk/conversation to finally come in the next chapter. I promise ;-)  
Thanks for the reviews!**_


	3. Chapter 3 - Overcome by saying good-bye

_**A/N: If you find any inconsistencies in this chapter, please let me know – I finished this chapter at 3:30am. It was something I needed to get done with and it was emotionally exhausting to do so. So, please be kind **_**:-) **_**The scene in the parsonage at the end of this chapter was the one that inspired me to this story. I wrote it while listening to the soundtrack of P&amp;P, especially the last piece „End credits", imagining Matthew Macfadyen's incredibly handsome face and eyes delivering Darcy's words and thoughts . And I cried all the way through. Never mind **_**:-) ****I love you, Darcy!**

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**CHAPTER 3**

**Saying good-bye**

**_..._**

After he had glanced around and assured himself that their kiss at the rotunda had not been observed by accident, Darcy returned to the main house of Rosings Park and was relieved he did not meet any of his acquaintances along the way. He entered the dressing room of his chambers where his trusted valet already awaited his master. His valet covertly raised an eyebrow in surprise seeing his master in such a pity state with his clothes drenched and muddy. In silence, Darcy let him assist with his outer wear but dismissed him afterwards. He needed to be alone.

He crossed the room to the wash stand, bent over the basin and splashed some water into his face. Then he paused for a moment as the water dripped from his features, keeping his eyes shut.

_I love you .. I love … love you so ardently, Elizabeth. Why would you not have me? Why would you not have __**us**__?_

For a timeless moment he welcomed the searing pain of rejection which was consuming him. Even if it was tearing him apart, he savoured it for its intensity that attested to the depth of his love for Elizabeth. Never in his life had Darcy ever felt so utterly defeated and robbed of all joy in life, not even after the death of his parents. He could not even start to imagine the days, months and years to come that would not be filled with the love and warmth of the most amazing woman he had ever met but instead of the desolation of a future without hope.

She had rejected him. Because she believed him to be an abominable man of damnable intentions. He was horrified at all her accusations. Did she really see all those traits in him? How could she misjudge him so?

But had she _really_ misjudged him? Had he not been arrogant and conceited and had he cared for the feelings of others when he had imposed himself on her by kissing her without her consent?

_Oh Lord, what have I done? Am I truly the man she sees in me?_

He reached for a cloth to dry his face and straightened his back. He breathed heavily and then opened his eyes again. Upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, he tried to reconcile the man who was looking back at him with the man he had always thought himself to be.

In kissing Elizabeth he had behaved in a dishonorable manner which he had never thought possible. Not of him, a gentleman, a man of honour. All the way back to the house he had been trying to come to terms with what had happened. He was fully aware that if they _had_ been observed, the ramifications would have been dreadful – a forced marriage to save Elizabeth's reputation. As absurd as it was, given she had just rejected him in the strongest terms, he still knew that honour demanded him to offer her marriage yet again to make amends for his improper conduct. He knew she would not accept this as an option but as a gentleman he still had to make the offer. And he _was_ a gentleman even though he had not behaved like one at that moment at the rotunda. At that moment he just had been a _man_, a man violently in love…

The kiss… He would never forget that kiss. Elizabeth had not been afraid when he had bent down and she had not shied away when his lips had touched hers. Instead, to his utter exaltation, after a brief moment of hesitation she had kissed him back passionately – for a few moments oblivious to all the misconceptions and differences that separated them. Answering her unexpected attention he had poured all of his love, hope and desperation into this union that had tasted like heaven.

The passion she had expressed in her responding to his kiss had left Darcy with a spark of hope which had since refused to die. Somewhere deep inside her she was not indifferent to him despite all the accusations she had so strongly voiced. _Something_ in her yearned for his touch and returned his affections. But that spark was overshadowed by all the hurt, anger and disgust she equally felt. Love like a flame was in need of air to breath and prosper and the negative feelings Elizabeth so violently harboured would suffocate it soon enough, leaving Darcy no room for true hope.

He remembered her shock and disgust after she had pushed herself away from him. How she had seemed to loath herself for having responded positively to his inexcusable behaviour – and how she seemingly had believed that he had kissed her to prove her inferiority to her and him alike. It broke his heart that his passion had brought such self-doubt upon the woman he so deeply loved. He could not bear to leave her like this, believing she had debased herself or wronged in any way. He needed to find a way to clarify this with her.

Perhaps if he explained his actions, showed her a clearer picture of his motivations, told her about Wickham… Maybe she would understand eventually. She would understand him… and that this kiss was nothing to be ashamed of but a gift she had bestowed on him – an invaluable gift he would treasure for the rest of his life that he would lead without her by his side as his wife.

Their verbal exchange after her rejection echoed through his mind. He was stunned to realize how little he knew of her, of who she was, and yet how well he understood her nevertheless.

Elizabeth had obviously been shattered by the intelligence that he had separated Bingley from her sister. One of the things Darcy loved and adored so much about Elizabeth was her fierce loyalty, especially towards her elder sister Jane. So, no matter how natural and just his actions in the service of a close friend had appeared to Darcy back at Netherfield, thinking about it now, it came as no surprise that Elizabeth would take offence at his dealings once she knew about them. Her loyalty would have not allowed her to accept him under any circumstances, him - the person responsible for her sister's unhappiness – even if she _had_ loved him. And she was right – besides the notion that Miss Bennet had seemed indifferent to Bingley, he had never given her feelings any further consideration. And he should have, he admitted now, and if it had been just for Bingley's sake.

It pained him that one of the accusations Elizabeth had led against him – and which he had all believed to be the finding of her misguided perceptions of his character – had actually turned out to be true to the point.

Was there more?

She had defended Wickham. Rage and hurt welled up in him.

_Damn you, Wickham!_ _Why is it you always aim at the women closest to my heart? _

The agony of his sister's suffering at the hands of this scoundrel still made Darcy's skin crawl – and to imagine that Wickham had also targeted Elizabeth to set her up against him… Even worse, she had believed Wickham and allowed the bastard to ensnare her mind with his venom. Darcy cursed himself. Had he been more forthcoming with his intelligence about Wickham's doubtable character when they met in Hertfordshire, this could have been prevented. He would have to accept the blame for her wrong perception of Wickham as the victim of Darcy's alleged schemes. But at least he knew for certain that on this account, Elizabeth had actually been wrong.

But there was so much more – his derailed justifications for offering for her in the first place which he had intended to underscore the depth of his love for her, showing his determination to set aside everything he had been taught and expected to do all his life. Elizabeth's hurt of him accusing most of her family of showing lack of propriety whereas he himself managed to be improper three times in only a few minutes, seeking her out in a lonely, isolated spot without a chaperone, insulting her family and finally imposing himself on her with a kiss without consent.

He was at a loss of what to do. There was so much to say and rectify and so little time to do so. He could not expect to find enough time with Elizabeth in an uncompromising and yet private setting to convey all that needed to be explained. Then, it dawned on him.

_A letter. _

He shook his head and combed his hair with both hands in desperation.

_God, Darcy! Another impropriety. Another example Elizabeth was right. _

_Forgive me my blindness, my love._

It had to be. All he needed was an opportunity to hand it to her unwitnessed by others.

Another thought crossed his mind. Once he had given her the letter and received her negative answer to his honourable offer of marriage for imposing himself on her – _there was not the slightest chance she would say yes under these circumstances, was there?_ – he should away to London without delay. He could not expect her to endure his presence any longer after all the emotional distress she had suffered through him and still pretend an officially perfunctory acquaintance in the presence of others. That would not do. So, he would remove himself from Rosings. He could always cite urgent business matters calling him away on short notice.

He rang the bell for his valet to inform him of his decision to leave for London on first light in the morrow. Then he sat down and started to write.

„_Miss Elizabeth,  
_ _I shall not renew the sentiments that were so disgusting to you. But if I may I will address the two offences you have led against me…"_

_..._

The dinner party at Rosings had been informed by servants that Mr. Darcy would not join them, excusing himself with feeling unwell. Lady Catherine shared uninvited stentorian counsel as to how avoid taking ill in weather such as that of this rainy Sunday and reminded her daughter Anne to stay away from her cousin so she should not suffer his fate.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was immediately puzzled by this situation. Darcy was never _unwell_. On very care occasions he might have been ill, but never just unwell. This was so very unlike the Darcy Richard knew. The colonel's cousin always made a point of being composed even at times he might not be up to it, so this excuse had a wrong feel to it. And Richard was equally too curious and too caring a person to not have his interest piqued by Darcy's absence. Thereof he had offered to go upstairs and seek Darcy out to inquire about his well-being but even more so to see what was wrong with him.

As expected, Fitzwilliam found his cousin in his dressing room, just adding some final touches to an obviously extensive letter. Upon the colonel entering, Darcy folded the pages of the letter and put it aside.

Richard's first impression of his cousin was not necessarily one of someone being ill. But Darcy seemed quite subdued. Disheartened even. But the colonel was at a loss to see why.

„Darcy! I was told you are feeling unwell. Should we call for the last rites?"

Darcy shot him a dark look but waved him off, trying to sound appeasing. „Very thoughtful, Richard, thank you for your concern but it is nothing. Obviously I caught too much rain while walking today after church. All I need is a little rest and I shall be fine in the morrow."

Richard looked at him inquisitively for a moment. „It is funny that you would say that. The Collinses just arrived and excused Miss Elizabeth for feeling unwell, citing the same reason." The colonel raised an eyebrow and his voice adopted a playful, yet slightly questioning tone. „Anything you might like to share with me?"

Darcy had winced ever so slightly at the mention of Elizabeth's name but then raised his eyes to the colonel's and withstood his cousin's gaze with an expression of carefully acted-out indifference on his countenance.

„No." A clear refusal to accept further questions on this matter resonated in Darcy's answer.

Colonel Fitzwilliam could not help it. Something about his friend irritated him. There was an air around him of… _Well, of what?_ He raked his brain but could not pin a name to it. He was accustomed to Darcy's many faces of brooding and yet, this here was something different. This was not his usual taciturnity. But obviously Darcy did not intend to offer any insight on his frame of mind. And although Richard would never suspect his cousin of something debatable in connection with Miss Elizabeth, he still found this coincidence of mutual unwellness remarkable. His military-trained mind made a note to investigate this further – at some other time. Darcy's constitution did not seem to invite conversation. Fitzwilliam nodded in understanding.

„Ah. Yes. Good. I will return to the party and relay your excuses again."

„Thank you." Darcy cautiously let go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. If he had to fear anyone's inquiries to uncover his true struggles, it was Fitzwilliam's. But the colonel seemed oblivious to Darcy's tension… or he was just holding back his curiosity in order to launch an attack on his cousin on another occasion. Darcy knew he would have to be careful around him if he was to protect Elizabeth's reputation.

As Fitzwilliam was about to leave, Darcy called him back.

„Richard, so just that you know, I have received intelligence of some urgent business matters that need my immediate attending to in London. I will leave at first light in the morrow. Will you accompany me?" He would not risk the inquisitive colonel to linger anywhere near Elizabeth for her remaining days in Rosings.

Leaning back in his desk chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest, Darcy sported an amused smile. „Or would you rather prefer to extend your enjoyment of Aunt Catherine's impeccable hospitality?"

Fitzwilliam threw back his head and roared with laughter.

„Not for the life of me if you are giving me such an incontrovertible excuse to remove myself to some more inviting venue!"

Darcy was genuinely pleased by Richard's reaction. „Georgiana will be at Darcy House. She will be quite happy to see you again."

„Even better!" The colonel was clearly satisfied how this conversation had developed. His cousin's mood seemed to have recovered slightly. „It's off to London we go, then! See you in the morning."

With a smile, Darcy nodded to Fitzwilliam as the latter left the dressing room. Once the door had closed again, the smile vanished from Darcy's face in an instant.

Elizabeth was alone at the parsonage. The Collinses would be caught up at Rosings for the better part of the evening. Fate seemed to smile at him. At least for once on this bleak Easter Sunday.

If he ever was to hand Elizabeth his letter, now was his chance. Or never.

And she needed to know.

_..._

Darcy dismounted his steed in front of the parsonage and followed the gravel path that led up to the main entrance. As expected, the small house seemed abandoned with the exception of a dim light from a fireplace shining through the window of the small sitting room which Elizabeth occupied during her stay with the Collinses.

When he reached the door, he stopped, suddenly feeling incapable to proceed. The notion that tonight could be the last time he might ever see her again seemed unbearable. He conceded to himself that he had never realized just how much was missing from his seemingly blessed life before he had met Elizabeth. On his ride to the parsonage Darcy had tried to remember what life had been like before his visit to Hertfordshire but all his memories now seemed shallow and empty.

He knew in his heart that he could not leave her life without telling her that she had touched his life profoundly for which he would be forever thankful. Perhaps this would give them the chance to part on peaceful terms.

It could not be helped. Darcy took a deep breath and with a heavy heart finally pushed the handle and gently opened the main door. A look towards the sitting room revealed Elizabeth who stood in front of a small mirror, her back to him. He hesitated for a second on the doorsill, unsure how he would be received once she realized who had entered. But Elizabeth did not stir, nor did she acknowledge his presence in any other way. His heart sank. He had not expected to be ignored completely, although he could not say what exactly he _had_ expected. With diffident steps Darcy continued towards her back. As he approached he could make out her beautiful face as a reflection in the mirror before her. Her gaze was fixed on herself and to Darcy's surprise appeared deeply saddened. Her eyes did not move to meet his.

Oh, how he would miss those eyes.

„I came to leave you this." he said gently and placed the letter on the window sill. Still no reaction from her.

_Look at me._

Nothing.

Darcy lowered his head and continued in a low voice. „You took offence with my behaviour towards your sister and Mr Wickham. I can only hope that you will grant me the honour of reading this letter in which I address those offences in detail hoping-" He paused shortly. „- hoping that you might understand the motives that governed my actions."

He raised his head again, searching her eyes in the mirror.

_Elizabeth, look at me, please. I beg you_.

He blew out a breath. This was not getting easier.

„Concerning my… my behaviour at the rotunda… I.. You…" He hesitated, searching for the right words. „Miss Elizabeth, my behaviour might have been highly dishonourable, but despite the apparent existence of proof to the contrary, I _am_ an honourable man. And as such you may rest assured that I would offer for you again to secure your reputation… if you so desire."

_But we both know you do not_.

_Please, one look, just __**one**__…_

With his last words, Elizabeth had finally looked at him through the reflection in the mirror. She held his eyes with a steady gaze that was still sad and weary. But at least she was finally looking at him. Darcy took another deep breath.

_Thank you, my love._

He drowned in the sight of her beloved face with her sad, yet fine eyes which would haunt his dreams until the day he died.

Somehow he returned to the presence and found the strength to continue.

„This was not your fault. To me your reputation is unscathed. I am the only one to blame. But-"

Elizabeth closed her eyes.

_Do not look away, love. Please. I need to tell you what I feel and I need to tell it to your eyes so I can be sure you believe me. I could not bear to live on without you if you did not believe me. Please._

And as if she had heard Darcy's silent plea, Elizabeth's eyes flung open and glistened with unshed tears. They scurried to meet his look in the mirror's reflection and held it with an unguarded openness that gave him the courage to speak freely.

„But I am not ashamed of the deep feelings I conveyed to you this morning. And although, as a gentleman, I can not excuse my imposing myself on you with that… kiss…." He drew in a deep breath as a wave of emotion from that kiss washed over him and continued with a mere whisper, the words tumbling from his lips as if on their own accord. „…yet as a man I am incapable of bringing myself to regret it, either. It is something that will stay with me forever. And I will cherish your unveiled response to it for the rest of my life." He closed his eyes. „Forgive me my forwardness."

_For one small moment I felt your love for me. It will keep me going until the end of my days. _

After a moment of utter silence between them he opened his eyes again. Tears hat welled up in Elizabeth's eyes and seemed to tell him that she understood.

_Do not cry, my love._

Darcy had to restrain the urge to pull her into a tight embrace and assure her that all would be well. The inkling of a sad smile crept onto his face. He sighed scarcely audible.

„You were right – propriety seems to elude me easily when it comes to my feelings for you. I have to thank you for teaching me humility for that matter." His face transformed into honest adoration with a shy yet affectionate smile.

„And I thank Our Saviour for your path of life having crossed mine. If not as the woman I am to spend my life with, then at least as the teacher who inspired me to hopefully one day become a man who would have been worthy of your love."

_I will not forget, I promise._

The tears in Elizabeth's eyes ran down her cheeks uncontrollably now but she would not break eye-contact with him. Darcy's smile diminished. As much as he cherished her tears as a sign that she understood what he intended to say, it pained him at heart to see her in any more distress because of him. It was time to leave. He steadied his voice and straightened his composure.

„Please forgive me for having taken up so much of your time and accept my most ardent wishes for your health and happiness." Darcy paused for a moment, taking in her fine eyes and beautiful bewitching countenance one last time to memorize his Elizabeth for all those years to come… without her.

_I love you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. I always will._

„God bless you, Miss Elizabeth."

With that he bowed distinctly, turned and left without another look.

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_**A/N: If not yet posted, see the status of coming chapters on my profile page.**_


	4. Chapter 4 - Overcoming prejudice

_**A/N: Disclaimer - Some paragraphs of Darcy's letter belong to the 2005 movie version. I own nothing but my dreams involving a certain gentleman….  
I started a story diary on my profile page to fill you in on things going on in between posting chapters – if you want to know about the writing process or general status of upcoming chapters, that's the place to go **_**;-)  
**_**This chapter was difficult for me – hope I'm making any sense here :-P**_

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**Chapter 4 – Overcoming prejudice**

_Wait! Stay!_

Elizabeth could not tell if she had called after Darcy aloud or just in her thoughts. She had spun around and was now staring at the spot he had occupied, willing him to reappear before her. Her lips tingled and her cheeks were wet from all the tears still rolling down her face. Something she could not fathom had vanished from this room… and probably also from her life.

There was a strange feeling of loss she could not really account for - Elizabeth could not shake the impression that more than Fitzwilliam Darcy had left the room moments ago, leaving her feeling cold and abandoned. That strange emotion felt similar to what she had encountered this morning in those few seconds when Darcy had slowly broken their kiss and lingered against her face – before they had come to their senses again and realized the impossible situation they had been in. It was a moment in which her lips were mourning the loss of his touch and her body had instantly missed his sensual nearness that had caused her senses to explode like fireworks.

In the morning, though, that feeling had not persisted but instead had been washed away by a chaotic multitude of emotions that simultaneously crashed into her heart and mind, wreaking havoc on her composure – anger, shock, repulsion, fear, insecurity, irritation… but also surprise, excitement, wonderment and an uninvited rush of passion stirred up by Darcy's unexpected kiss.

When she had returned to the parsonage from their disastrous encounter at the rotunda this morning, Elizabeth had retired to her room immediately, thus avoiding any questions from Charlotte, let alone Mr Collins. She had been unfit for company, and theirs was the last she would have sought at that moment. Once in her bedchamber she had sat down onto her bed, her emotional turmoil quickly overwhelming her, and so she had collapsed onto her pillow crying hard and long. The very fact that Mr Darcy had confessed his ardent love for and proposed to her in one swift motion – seemingly out of nowhere – would have been enough to make her head spin, but the argument that had ensued after her strong rejection of his declaration and offer was more than she was able to bear. The ultimate climax though was that passionate kiss. A kiss she had had to admit had not really been imposed on her despite Mr Darcy's initiative but which they had both truly _shared_… One which _at that very moment_ had come so rightfully, so urgently, so naturally to her as if she had _belonged_. She had kissed him just as much and passionately as he had kissed her – and it had felt inexplicably right. And yet, of course it was all but. In fact, it was nauseously wrong on so many levels.

It was all so utterly confusing, she had no idea whether to feel enraged, shocked… or … _what_? Disappointed? Abandoned? Debased? Betrayed? Or even … thrilled? Passionate? Lost?

Unwilling to ponder the ramifications of the possibility that their kiss had been based on mutual attraction and passion of sorts, Elizabeth tortured her mind with desperately deviating questions as to why Darcy might have kissed her – that he could impose himself on her and get away with it? To prove to her his point as to how below his station she was by willingly accepting the inappropriate the advances of the Master of Pemberley? To show her what she was missing by rejecting him? Given all the abhorrent things she believed he had said and done, she would have wanted to accept any of those reasons – each would have fit so well into her neatly constructed repulsive picture of his character.

And yet… she could not but remember the look in his eyes shortly before he had kissed her – unguarded, honest, hurt, mesmerised. If that look had been any indication as to why he had kissed her, none of her elaborately considered reasons would be correct. Neither any other negative one.

Could he have kissed her only because he was desperately in love with her and just was not able to let go of his dream of being with her after she had rejected his offer – and his love – so violently?

Try as she might, the ambiguous and conflicting emotions involving their kiss had been overshadowing all the other reasons for their argument at the rotunda. They had kept demanding the spotlight of her mind's attention, repeatedly pushing the thoughts about the other issues into the background. In the course of the day her struggles had left her drained and dazed, her mind circulating endlessly around Mr Darcy's confession of love, his offer of marriage, the accusations that had been exchanged and the unexpected passionate end of their argument that still had her feelings in an uproar.

By the time night was falling she was exhausted, body and mind alike. The Collinses had left for Rosings to follow Lady Catherine's invitation for her Easter dinner and the house was quiet and dark. Her mind bleak and quite fitting the house's current atmosphere, Elizabeth had wandered aimlessly through the rooms, eventually finding herself standing in front of a mirror in the small sitting room downstairs. She looked at her reflection but did not really see herself. In so many ways she felt like a shell was staring back from the mirror – that she could not understand who the person was that was looking back at her. And she had no power left to ponder this question.

Elizabeth had not noticed Darcy entering the parsonage and coming to a halt some steps behind her. Only when he had started to address her had her mind realized that she was no longer alone. For some reason she had not been surprised to see him, nor had she been irritated by the impropriety of his late night visit – he had been on her mind all day long so vividly and all-encompassingly that it somehow seemed natural he would materialize in person.

He had come to give her a letter in which he had addressed her accusations towards him regarding his dealings with Jane and Wickham. First, Elizabeth had found herself unable to truly focus on his gentle words that filled the room hesitantly but instead had rather listened more intently to the sound of his deep, rich and soothing voice that vibrated along her bones in her body.

And then Darcy had offered for her again – this time not out of love but out of respect and honour to make amends for his imposing behaviour earlier that day. Trying to do the right thing like the gentleman he was. Again, he had put himself and his future at her mercy as he had that morning. Only that he would have known this second time that his honourable offer would be rejected – again. And yet, he had done it. Had not demanded it but offered it for her to choose. Offered himself knowingly and willingly to enter a marriage he must have been convinced would hold no love from her side, given the way she had reacted to his initial proposal.

She had finally looked at him through his reflection in the mirror. Elizabeth had never seen Darcy so unguarded, so emotional, so open. His sad, shy smiles, his unruly ruffled hair, the lack of his cravat and his open shirt that displayed some unsettling skin underneath… all that had created such an unexpected pleasant, fragile and vulnerable image of Darcy – young, hurt, proud, sensual, fiercely in love … _with me_. The loving, even pleading expression on his face had made Elizabeth hold her breath repeatedly. She was seriously touched by his unguarded openness which somehow reminded her of the honest emotions transpiring in his passionate kiss at the rotunda. All of her body seemed to prickle with the surge of emotion Darcy had poured from his eyes and soul through the mirror unto her like a warm shower when he had confessed to her that the _man_ Darcy would always cherish their kiss and her passionate response to it whereas the _gentleman_ Darcy could not excuse his behaviour enough.

And out of nowhere she suddenly wondered if she might have felt inclined to accept a proposal from _this_ Darcy. The man. The caring, open, unguarded, humble, vulnerable, passionately loving man. From this unexpected well of warmth and affection. She had to admit that she _had_ accepted a fiercely passionate kiss from _this_ Darcy only hours ago and although her intellect reprimanded her harshly for her wanton behaviour and him for his unthinkable breach of decorum, her soul still cherished the vision of a loving and uninhibited heart that the gentleman had let itself attach to her despite all that was dividing them.

At last, when he had told her that he wanted to change the man he was into one that would have been worthy of her love _despite her rejection of him_, Elizabeth had realized that she probably had touched Fitzwilliam Darcy's life like no other woman had before. Her heart somewhat broke over the display of humility and reverence from the man standing behind her whose eyes and countenance were as gentle, loving and affectionate as never before, and tears had started to run down her cheeks. She had understood that he was saying goodbye – and that he had not wanted to leave her with the bad impression she had left with that morning when they had parted.

He wanted her to remember him in a different light – one that would not hurt so much. For both of them.

As he had turned and left, she had looked mesmerised after his retreating figure, _knowing_ there was no reason to make him stay although she was _feeling_ that she should have made him anyway.

_Wait! Stay!_

When her heart had finally decided to cry for him to remain, it was too late.

...

After awhile in utter silence, Elizabeth remembered Darcy's primary reason for his late night visit and turned towards the window to pick up the letter he had deposited there. Her hands unconsciously caressed its edges while she took a moment to marvel at his handwriting of the letter's address _Miss Elizabeth_ – precise, even, strong - which seemed so like him. She broke the wax seal and was surprised by the volume of pages. Given the length of the document he must have spent the better part of the day penning it.

„_Miss Elizabeth,_

_I shall not renew the sentiments that were so disgusting to you. But if I may I will address the two offences you have led against me. My father loved Wickham as a son…"_

Darcy went on to relate a most distressing tale of greed, excess, lies and wrongful claims that shone a completely different light on the character of George Wickham, trying to take advantage of a grieving man he grew up with like a brother. But it would not stop there.

"_He came back to see us last summer. At which point he declared passionate love for my sister whom he tried to persuade to elope with him. She is to inherit 30.000 Pounds. When it was made clear that he would not see a penny of this inheritance he disappeared. I will not attempt to convey the depth of Georgiana's despair. She was 15 years old."_

At this point, Elizabeth had to stop reading and closed her eyes. She did not know when she had raised her hand to cover her mouth in shock over the intelligence that Mr. Darcy disclosed in his letter. The very thought of George Wickham betraying the two people he had grown up with like family in such a manner was unbearable. Even more so since she had trusted Wickham's words. A rake, a cad – a pretty face with charming manners in public – and she had fallen prey to his charming ways and easy machinations. She who always had prided herself at being such a splendid reader of characters. She was a fool. A complete and utter fool. She couldn't believe how cruel she had been towards Darcy in bringing this up against him – and there she had thought she had been intentionally cruel by telling him he was the last person she could ever think to marry. But to defend the cad to him who had used his little sister in such despicable manner for the sake of money – the sister who was Darcy's only remaining family and who he was responsible for as a brother and guardian to keep safe... Elizabeth was mortified and ashamed beyond compare. She felt nauseous.

How could he not abandon all feelings he might have ever had for her in light of her stupid foolishness? How could he not hate her fiercely now? And yet, the way he had addressed her just moments ago spoke a different language. That of continuous love. Love for her. Still – despite all the things she had thrown at him. How could he still love her? Adore her even? Call her a teacher who had enriched his life. Had taught him lessons he would cherish for the rest of his days. Thanking her for having crossed his path of life. For having touched him profoundly. _For having returned his kiss_.

Darcy turned out to be an enigma to her – a puzzle she was unable to solve. There were so many layers to his personality that it made her head ache. And just this morning she had thought to have him all figured out. But one thing was clear as day – he was a deeply feeling and passionate man. Passionate about herself, his sister, his family… and those few he considered his true friends.

"_As to the other matter – that of your sister and Mr Bingley – though the motives that governed me might to you seem insufficient, they were in service of a friend."_

As he went on to explain that he really had not seen Jane's attachment as what it was, he also admitted that he might have been wrong when taking Elizabeth's knowledge into account. Although she still censured his interference in a relationship that was not his to deal with, she understood, though, that as Bingley's best friend he might have felt compelled to voice his honest opinion when asked – as she would have done herself if she had found herself in a similar situation. And had she not misjudged him entirely and completely? So, how could she criticize him for making that mistake in regard to Jane? And Jane _had_ been very shy and private about her feelings for Mr Bingley. Charlotte had hinted to this as an issue at the Netherfield ball. So, such a mistake could have easily been done.

Elizabeth concluded that she could not really hold this mistake against Mr Darcy – as long as he rectified it now that he knew of it. She wondered if he ever would. If he was the honourable gentleman he prided himself to be, he would have to. He owed it to his friend. _And to Jane_.

After having addressed her accusations of his actions, Darcy wrote in length about her scathing verdict of his character. Without realizing it, Elizabeth held her breath throughout his explanations as they once again echoed his continued reverence for her.

"_Concerning your allegations regarding my character… You believe me to be arrogant, conceited and indifferent to the feelings of others. I cannot begin to express how devastated I am to understand that what you saw of me is what I believe to be a distorted picture of my character._

"_As I told you that evening at Rosings, I do not have the talent of conversing with people I do not know. Generally I guess I do not socialize well. That might be rooted partially in my personal uncomfortableness when in unknown company but also due to the society circles I move in. My aloofness stems from my awareness that most of the unmarried women of society – and their mothers – I encounter on any occasion only seem to seek a good match in terms of consequence and station. They strive to become Mrs Darcy of Derbyshire &amp; Mistress of Pemberley but I believe they do __not__ strive to become my friend, my confidante or care to be my soul mate. They are more interested in what I represent than in __who I am or what I think__. Behaving indifferent and reserved, maybe even uninviting of conversation or company, is my possibly flawed way to keep these women at a distance and not make them believe I might encourage their suits. This might be the main reason why I can seem arrogant to others. You were the first woman I have ever met who did not treat me differently just because of my position in society and instead rebuked me for my behaviour. You have the extraordinary talent to see __me as a person__ rather than as a player in the shallowness of society's game of life._

"_Yes, I am proud, Miss Elizabeth. This much is true. I believe I have reason to be – I was still quite young when I inherited Pemberley, my beloved home, and became the guardian for my young and grieving sister. I still often miss my parents and wish I could ask my father for counsel on estate and business matters or my mother for advice on how to guide Georgiana into becoming the lovely, stunning woman I know she will be one day. But I can no longer. For those many years I struggled through all of this alone, and I believe – I hope – I did well. Yes, I am proud of my accomplishments. I am also proud of the family I come from – with two parents who loved each other beyond compare and shared their love with their children. And I too aspire towards such a connection with my future wife and children – one that is based on the deepest love, friendship, respect and equality in partnership. I cannot for the life of me imagine a connection with a wife solely on the basis of convenience and consequence, no matter how good a match it might be. I need – and I want – more. You have been the only woman I met in my eight and twenty years of life I could ever see myself in the sort of marriage that I truly aspire as described above. The fact of your humble beginnings in contrast to my position in society was something that admittedly troubled me at first, but which I was determined to set aside – finally. _

"_Which brings me to my expressing scruples about our relationship… Please allow me to explain that I was simply trying to be honest and truthful in disclosing my struggles to you. I believe you deserve nothing less. I wanted to show you that I was truthfully willing to step away from all I have been taught all my life, from all the expectations that have been placed upon my shoulders for as long as I can remember so that they became a second nature to me – because by the time I proposed to you today I believed beyond any doubt that having your love, having you for my wife would have been worth it all to accomplish a life of my dreams. Worth all the derision and reproach from my family and society that was to be expected. I was even willing to face the issues that would inevitably arise for my sister's future search for an appropriate match if I was to enter into a marriage with you – that being the biggest hurdle for me to jump as I would do everything for my sister's happiness. But I did jump it – for you. For me. For the possibility of creating __us__._

"_And – yes again, I criticized the lack of propriety as shown by most of your family on various occasions. Although I believe that when honestly reviewing my statement you might even agree with me on it being true in general, I now realize it was not my place to voice my opinion the way I did. Please accept my humble and sincere apology on this matter. Country society might not be as refined as the high circles of the _ton_, but come to think of it, all of what I found wanting in it on first glance is also to be found in the circles of High Society in London which believes itself to be so much above all others. My own Aunt Catherine de Bourgh is the best – or rather worst – example for impropriety among the _ton_. Her manners deserve as much censure as any other, if not more. Alas, it speaks ill of me to be voicing such thoughts about a relation to another person, so I guess I should add another apology for that slip in decorum as well. But I still stand by my opinion, though.  
And yet, when I review my actions today, I have to question my opinion nonetheless. Basically all of my dealings with you today must be considered highly improper, even up to the point of repeatedly threatening your reputation – something I will never forgive myself for. I had to realize today that propriety and decorum sometimes restrain my soul to a point of suffocation, valuing formality over matters of the heart too much at times. I do not want to justify what I did – only say that I could not help myself by __be__ myself today, to open my heart to you and show you who I really am. I do regret that the way I did that was so way out of line, but in general I do not regret me doing it.  
So, who does that make me to judge your family? A family who might not meet society's expectation in terms of decorum but seems to value matters of the heart and as a result has produced the most enchanting, engaging, beautiful, witty, intelligent, honest, caring and desirable soul of a woman I have ever had the honour to become acquainted with. _

"_Well, after so many pages I realize I have broken my promise from the beginning of this letter to not renew my sentiments I voiced this morning. Miss Elizabeth, there were so many things I wanted to tell you when I sought you out after church, but I am not good at finding the right words when speaking to someone, especially in moments that are emotionally difficult, and so many things just came out plain wrong. I will close this letter with my deepest hopes that my words herein have made my character and the intentions of my actions clearer, not for the purpose of absolving my conscience but because I cannot stand the thought of having hurt you by my thoughtless words tumbling from my mouth earlier today.  
Be assured, I do and will respect your refusal of my proposal and I offer my honest apologies that the way in which I brought my sentiments to your knowledge hurt and repulsed you. I assure you that nothing was further from my intentions when I made my offer._

_Forgive me._

_I will only add – God bless you, Miss Elizabeth._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Fitzwilliam Darcy"  
_

Elizabeth lowered the pages of the letter with fresh tears in her eyes. Through her blurred vision she gazed out of the window behind which his form had vanished into the woods, riding away from the parsonage…and away from her. Her initial feeling of loss multiplied. He truly loved her – for all the right reasons. She had to concede that she had wronged him so deeply. She had been such a fool. And so had he – but he at least had been a fool for love. She only had been a fool for prejudice.

_If only you had shown yourself to be __this__ Darcy before. Before tonight. Before you walked out of my life. Who knows what you could have been…. _

_An acquaintance? … A friend?...A husband…? … A soulmate…? _

But it was too late.

Overwhelmed with an abysmal sadness she realized that due to her actions of this day she would never have the chance again to find out.

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_**A/N: If not posted yet, please find the status of upcomin**__**g chapters in my story diary on my status page.**_


	5. Chapter 5 - Overcoming perceptions

_**A/N: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter – as I wrote in my story diary (see my profile page) I encountered some serious plot trouble which I needed to sort out first. Again – finished during another camping holiday abroad (maybe I should do more camping… it would certainly speed up my posting schedule *hehehe*) In the meantime - A big thank you for all the continuous follows, favorites and reviews! I thrive on these :-)  
With this (rather longish) chapter I think we have reached the bottom of that hole Darcy has digged himself. Things should be looking up (somewhat) from now on.  
I find that I love to follow around Darcy (LOL! Seriously - Who doesn't?! Can I be his lap dog, please?) or rather Darcy's POV. So, I might end up writing this story more from his side of things… I just love that beautifully enigmatic mind of his…*sighs*  
**_

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**CHAPTER 5 – Overcoming perceptions**

_He caught her fragrance of lavender surrounding him… and it alerted all of his senses. Closing his eyes he drew a deep breath, flaring his nostrils to fully cherish the sensation. Her heavy breathing filled his ears like a raging storm as she stood only inches away from him, her entire body vibrating because of his closeness. _

_When he opened his eyes again, a blazing heat spilled out of hazel brown orbs searing a fiery path through his consciousness deep down to the very core of his soul, burning him alive. He wanted to throw all of him into her fire and so he leant into her bodily presence to let her consume him completely. _

_And that she did. Under the overwhelming attack of her lucious and unrelenting essence, his awareness was engulfed in her flames and desintegrated into nothingness until Fitzwilliam Darcy was no longer._

Darcy awoke drenched in sweat at the crack of dawn in his chambers at Rosings. It took him a moment to realize where he was and _that he was_. His whole body still resonated from the vivid impressions of his dream and he panted for air. Once his senses had readjusted to reality, the ache in his chest constricting his soul returned, remembering that all he would have of Elizabeth in the future would be memories and dreams such as this.

It was time to escape the siren's call.

* * *

Colonel Fitzwilliam was not surprised to find his cousin up and ready to leave at first light in the morning, restless for the carriage to start its voyage back to London. What did surprise him though, was that Darcy looked worse than the night before. It seemed to Richard as if sleep had evaded the Master of Pemberley completely as dark shadows circled his eyes. And although the Colonel's cousin was impaccably dressed and composed as was his custom, he still emanated an air of disruption and wrinkledness.

_No, this must have been the works of more than just a rain shower, _Fitzwilliam mused.

Visits to their aunt often had a negative effect on both her nephews with Richard being his good-natured self usually recuperating quickly whereas most of the times Darcy would leave Rosings in a severe bout of sulkiness. But today Darcy was different – _worse_ – and the Colonel started to wonder in earnest whether the coincidence of Miss Elizabeth's simultaneous indisposition last night had been really that accidental after all.

Curiosity kills the cat, they say, but a cat has nine lives. Richard was willing to sacrifice one of them on stilling his need to find out if his suspicion held any relevance.

"It's a pity we do not have the time to make a last call at the parsonage to take our leave of our acquaintances there. I for one would have wanted to say goodbye to Miss Elizabeth," he ventured smugly in a try to cause some reaction on Darcy's side. He was not disappointed.

"Why so eager, Richard? Do you nurse any specific interest in that lady?" Darcy snapped with a quick glance towards his cousin before he reined his feelings in and returned his gaze back out of the carriage's window, immediately berating himself silently for losing his composure.

Fitzwilliam's smirk widened into a mischieveous grin, raised eyebrow included. "Would that be so surprising? You know her longer than I do, so you should be aware that she would be worth it. Or… Am I stepping on your toes, cousin?"

"Do not be ridiculous."

"And why would that be?" Richard inquired further, grin still firmly in place.

Darcy's eyes flickered to the colonel for a second before averting them again and donning his mask of indifference, pretending to watch the countryside glide past the window. "You know why. She is below my station, has no connections of consequence and a dowry too little to speak of."

"As you do not think fondly of most people of your station, do not care for the connections you already have and do not need a big dowry from any potential wife as you are one of the wealthiest bachelors of England, I figure you must find her completely unattractive."

"Hmmm," Darcy breathed in a low growl, not giving away whether his was an answer in the negative or affirmative.

"Good," Richard quipped curtly.

Darcy's head snapped around slightly, his eyes now staring at the colonel intently who held his gaze expectantly. Neither of them blinked.

"Richard?"

Pause.

"Hmm?"

More pause.

"Leave it be."

"Hmm."

The two men silently looked at each other for a few more moments before Richard broke the eye contact with his cousin to watch the tamed beauty of the Kent countryside outside of their ride, a small smirk still stuck on his face. He needed no further information.

_See, that cat's life was well spent_.

* * *

Greedy fingers of sleep began to pull Darcy under while the carriage continued to rattle along the gravel roads, putting more distance between him and Elizabeth by the minute. Yet, peace of mind was elusive.

_Somehow I always end up running away from her._

_In Hertfortshire I ran to avoid my love for her, now – that I will no longer run from that love – I run from Kent to avoid her disgust for me._

_How I wish I could run _towards_ you, Elizabeth...  
__And be welcomed._

With that yearning thought lingering on the outer rim of his consciousness he drifted off into a restless sleep.

* * *

Georgiana Darcy knew something was amiss. She had just returned from her Aunt Matlock's town house where she had stayed with her companion for the past weeks during her brother's yearly visit to their Aunt Catherine in Kent. She knew her brother had returned the day before because her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam had returned with him earlier than expected and now resided at his mother's house. Georgiana was irritated that her brother had not called on her the same day, given her Aunt's house was just across the square from Darcy House and their arrival yesterday would have been timely enough for him to seek her out. That was what he usually did – he never waisted any time to reunite with his sister after weeks of seperation. It was his prerogative and joy as her older brother. But nothing had happened. A full day had passed and Fitz had not called on her. She had decided to relocate to Darcy House to see if he might still feel unwell. Richard had mentioned the night before that her brother had been feeling out of sorts on their last evening at Rosings. Maybe there was more to that.

Darcy House's long standing and trusted housekeeper Mrs. Reid told Georgiana that her brother was in his study. "Miss Darcy, it is not my intention to worry you or to intrude on the Master's privacy but I would like to voice my concerns regarding Mr. Darcy. I hope you do not mind." She added in a confidential tone.

Georgiana was alarmed. It seemed her suspicions where not unfounded. "No, of course not. Please, go ahead. Pray tell, is my brother unwell?"

Mrs. Reid looked concerned. "I cannot attest to the nature of his troubles but he arrived yesterday, obviously in very low spirits. He spent the rest of the day in his study and barely ate something at dinner. I am unsure as to if he slept at all last night. Mr. Drake, his valet, attended to him this morning but found him in quite a distressed state. He has been in his study again for most of today and again barely touched his breakfast." She paused for a second. "The staff worries for his well-being. I wanted to let you know."

Georgiana drew a deep breath. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Reid, for your service to Mr. Darcy. It is good to know I can trust in you to see after my brother when I am not here." She put a reaffirming hand on the housekeeper's forearm to convey her sincere gratitude for Mrs. Reid's care. The housekeeper was the good spirit of Darcy House and came as close to a trustworthy friend as one could find among people in service. In that she had a lot in common with Mrs. Reynolds, their mother-like housekeeper at Pemberley of over thirty years.

After disposing of her bonnet and pelisse, Georgiana took the stairs to the first floor and came to stand in front of the heavy wooden doors leading into Darcy's study. She hesitated for a moment to listen for any sounds coming from the room on the other side, but all was silent. She knocked. When several moments later still no reply had come from inside, she knocked again and gently opened the door.

"Brother?"

The room was cozy and warm with a fire ablaze in the grate. Her brother's chair at her desk was empty, though. It took her a moment to find him in a high chair facing the fire, his legs stretched and his head leaned against the head rest. His lack of response to her address started to cause her to become seriously apprehensive. She took a few steps but stopped a few feet away from his chair uncertain of what to do.

"Fitz?!" she called out somewhat more forceful to break his droop.

His audible intake of breath was the first discernable reaction to her presence. He then turned his head to look at her, broke into a small, tired smile and slowly stood to close the distance between them. He took her into a tight embrace and breathed a low "Georgie!" into her hair, not letting go of her for some long moments. His sister answered his greeting with holding him just as tight but could not shake the feeling that her brother was clinging to her for dear life rather than solely greeting her with his embrace.

"Brother, what is the matter? I can tell something has disturbed you significantly. It is so unlike you not to call on me right after being away for so long. Is is something that Aunt Catherine has said or done?"

Darcy slightly pulled out of their embrace but only so much that he could look into Georgiana's face. "No. It is nothing, do not worry, little one."

Georgiana was thoroughly scared by his answer which was so much in contrast to his state of mind and discomposed appearance that she broke their embrace, taking a step away from her brother. "No, do not lie to me, I beg of you! ", she pleaded sternly with him, "I can see that you are entirely beside yourself. Even Mrs Reid has mentioned as much. She is worried about you." She grew quiet, letting her eyes roam his features. She didn't like what she saw there. He looked shockingly tired, sad and dejected and his words fleered at his appearance. Her voice was softer when she continued, holding his eyes with hers. "The last time I have seen you anything like this was after Father passed away. You are scaring me, Fitz. Mostly for pretending that all is well although it is quite clear this is not the case. What is it you are not telling me?" She straightened her composure and seemed to grow a few inches by doing so. " I know I am young, but you are my brother and I love you and I want to be there for you. Just as you always have been for me, especially when I needed you most…." She did not have to mention Ramsgate aloud for her brother to understand what she meant.

Darcy sighed defensively in despondency, slightly shaking his head. "Georgie, no, I –"

But his sister cut him short, her voice an irritating mixture of mostly determination tinged with some slight panic. "I am stronger than you think. For you I want to be. For you I _will_ be." After a moment's silence her words become pleading. "Please, Fitz, tell me.…. We are both alone but at least we have each other. And I am here… for you. Do not shut me out."

Darcy held Georgiana's determined look for a whole minute, obviously pondering how to react to his unusually strong-willed sister. Then, sighing again deeply, he reached out for both of her hands and led her to the two chairs facing each other in front of the grate. They sat down, Darcy never letting go of her hands, thumbing the back of them absorbed in thought. He lowered his head and watched their hands interact. Georgiana waited intently but quietly. She knew her brother always needed his time to pick the right words to describe his thoughts.

He inhaled deeply, never taking his eyes from their entwined hands.

"When I travelled to Hertfordshire with Charles last November, we got acquainted with the local society, among others the family of a country gentleman with five daughters. For Bingley, it was almost love at first sight with the eldest of them, a rather angelic, kind woman. The second eldest sister was a very lively, vivid and engaged spirit, well-read, intelligent, beautiful… unlike any other lady I have ever encountered in my life. Her easily charming, witty and teasing manners intrigued me almost upon laying eyes on her for the first time." _On her magnificent, enticing eyes._ The corners of his mouth went slightly up in a shy smile. "Her mind was as sharp as a sword and would duel with mine relentlessly on any given topic, never giving up an inch of her position, no matter how contrary it might have been to mine." His smile grew a little wider in rememberance. "She would be utterly and completely unimpressed by my station and consequence but instead would snub me with a witty and challenging remark if I was being judgemental or generally disagreeable. "

"Miss Elizabeth." Georgiana said, slighly nodding her head. A statement rather than a question.

Darcy's head snapped up while his heart missed a beat in shock. "How would you know her name?" he whispered.

"You mentioned her in your letters. You _never_ mention new female acquaintances of your surrounding society by name, let alone their Christian name – actually you almost never mention _any_ people outside our immediate family or friends in detail at all. But the name _Miss Elizabeth _wouldappear in several of your letters usually recalling an anecdote or an intelligent conversation. I knew it must have been because you felt particularly attached to her. I wondered when you would tell me about her. And _you_, for that matter."

She smiled at him with a soft, affectionate smile that belied her young age. With a slight shock Darcy realized that she looked older and experienced – and he had to ask himself when it had happened without him seeing it that his little sister – _my little one!_ – had grown up to be this young, yet understanding and amazing woman. At this moment, she resembled their mother as Darcy conceded with wonderment. Strong, kind, caring, listening. Wise beyond her years. And to his surprise, she seemed determined to be the shoulder he could lean on.

And _Good Lord!_ was he in dire need of a caring, loving heart he could discharge his hopelessness and misery to.

"Oh Georgie..!" he moaned with a desperate sigh, closing his eyes and allowing his pain to take over. "Oh Georgie… I fell in love with her. I do not know how it came to be. I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words that laid the foundation. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun. By now, I love her more than I could have ever imagined to love a woman. I left Netherfield in November because I needed to get away from her before I had lost all will to ever leave her again. All these months since Hertfortshire I was frantically trying to forget her, rip her from my heart, from my memories… my soul." He pressed the last two words through gritted teeth in deepest agony.

Georgiana was shocked to see her brother in such distress. _Never_ before had he ever opened up to her like this – disclosed so much turmoil and emotion to her. She knew her brother to be a deeply passionate man but he usually kept a tight reign on his inner feelings, especially towards her – his only remaining family – his young sister he was so desperately trying to protect. Furthermore, she had needed his protection so badly and had been caught up in her own issues too deeply to concern herself with her brother's well-being in detail. There had seemed no cause for concern – he always projected the strength and invulnerability of a mountain. He always seemed in charge of _everything_. That's just how he was. Georgiana was greatly disturbed to see his vulnerable side – and to see it in such urgent and desperate need for help and care. She made a silent vow never to leave her brother alone like this again.

"But why?" Her question was barely audible but did not give away her state of mind.

Darcy drew a deep breath. His eyes were still pressed shut.

"She is a gentleman's daughter, but her family has no connections to speak of but relatives in trade. And her dowry is of no consequence." He shook his head. "You know what is expected of me. I felt I could not act upon my affections.… Our family would not accept her. Nor would society." Silence fell between them.

"Fitz."

Georgiana squeezed his hands which clung to hers but he would not react.

"_Fitzwilliam_. Look at me."

Darcy opened his eyes and looked at his sister who was pained to see unshed tears shimmer in them. Instinctively, she freed one hand and brought it up to his face to cup his left cheek, her thumb slowly stroking his cheekbone in a soothing manner. Her brother was the kindest, most loving person she knew and she could not stand to see him hurting like he did right now. He deserved all the happiness a woman's love could bestow upon him. And she was sure that any woman her brother would fall in love with would be a beautiful soul – he would not settle for less.

"_I_ would accept her."

Darcy responded with an affectionate smile and leaned his head into the touch of her hand.

"Thank you, dearest. I thought you would." He sounded relieved, yet still desperately out of hope. "She would have made a wonderful sister to you, beyond any doubt. You two would have done so well together and surely become fast friends."

"We still can! I am convinced that Fitzwilliam and Aunt Matlock would accept her als well. I mean, Fitzwilliam anyway. And I am sure, Aunt could be convinced." Georgiana tried to sort through possible allies in their family to bring her brother's dream to life, still believing his grievance to be rooted in the expected rejection of his choice of bride by their family.

"It does not signify. It will not be." Darcy sighed in an empty voice, hanging his head as if all the weight of the world was pulling it down.

Georgiana wanted to plead with him. "Fitz, do not give up. If we—" She stopped abruptly mid-sentence. There was more to this than met the eye. "Wait." She cocked her head to the side, deep in thought. "She was at Rosings for some reason… And you saw her again, right?" Her free hand cupped his chin and made him raise his eyes to her. _Empty eyes_, she thought sadly, _filled only with pain and despair_. "What happened?"

"I offered for her on Sunday and she rejected me." The words had tumbled from his lips, his eyes not leaving hers.

Georgiana was stunned and her mouth stood open from shock. "You offered? And she _rejected_ you?" _What woman in her clear mind could reject my brother?_

Darcy smiled sadly. "She cited some good reasons. Among others that I was the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry because she tought me arrogant, conceited, dishonourable and disdainful of the feelings of others."

"_What?_" Georgiana sat upright in her chair. She was so baffled by her brother's revelation that she did not realize she practically yelled at him. "Why would she say something so dreadful to you? _You_ _of all people_? You are all that is kind and caring and loving and honourable in this world!"

"That is very kind of you, my dear, but… it pains me to concede that she was right in many ways. "

Georgiana shook her head in bewilderment. "I cannot believe you are saying that."

"Nor I – at first. I was so angry, so hurt … I could not grasp what she had said." Darcy leaned back and rested his head against the back of the chair, abstractedly gazing into the fire. "But since that day I have done nothing else but thought in depth about her accusations and was shocked to find truth in nearly all of them."

"I was raised to be a gentleman and a true gentleman shows himself in how he treats the people beneath his station. But to her family and the country society of Hertfortshire I was rude, aloof, indifferent… arrogant. I thought myself to be better than them. They were so much like the _ton_ here in London – grovelling, hail-fellow-well-met. They annoyed me. I did not waste a second thought on them. I did not want to be around them… and it showed." He sighed. "These are the people she grew up with and lived all her life – her family, her friends, her neighbours – and she saw how I treated them." He shook his head lightly in disbelief as if realizing the wrongfulness of his behaviour for the first time in its full extend.

Georgiana listened in rapt attention, stunned into silence by her brother's honest admission. It was like finding out about a side of him she had never known existed.

Given his demeanor, Darcy seemed to share this feeling of an eye-opening discovery about himself. "I behaved ungentlemanly towards her on numerous occasions… I was oblivious to her feelings because as with her surrounding I never gave them a second thought. I never thought about _her_ feelings and wishes, I only thought about how much _I felt_ for her without disclosing any of my feelings towards her, though. … In Hertfortshire I was still convinced I could not marry her due to her lack of station and dowry, so I was careful not to give my affections away in my behaviour as to not raise unrealistic hopes I could not act upon. So, I never made a real effort to win her. _To get her to know_ _me_. After months of torment in which I could not forget her – and believe me, I _have_ tried – when I finally had to admit to myself that I was simply unable to live without her and found out she was at Rosings over Easter, visiting relations, I was arrogant enough that I expected her to rejoice in the fact that I finally declared myself and issued an offer for marriage…. marriage to the great Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley..." Once again, he closed his eyes in defeat. "Lord! How narrow-minded and arrogant I was. How conceited."

Georgiana silently watched her brother rise from his seat and start to poke the fire in the grate. While tending to the flames, he continued his confession, almost absent-mindedly.

"In my high-handedness back in Hertfortshire, I also had decided that Bingley's interest in Elizabeth's sister was not in his interest as I had been unable to detect any signs of deeper attachment to him in her. Not that I had given _her_ feelings any second thought – which seems to be a character flaw of mine. Additionally I deemed a connection between Bingley and the Bennets disagreeable due to the lack of propriety shown by most of the family members… and so I literally talked Charles out of pursuing Miss Bennet any further. We left Netherfield the next day. Because of me." He snorted. "And here I was, 5 months later, proposing to Elizabeth despite her family that I had declared inappropriate for my best friend to connect to." A short, humourless laugh escaped his throat. "As Miss Elizabeth pointed out to me on Sunday in no uncertain terms, it turns out that her sister did _indeed_ feel deeply for Charles and had been left devastated by his sudden disappearance."

"So, this is why Mr. Bingley seems so out of sorts since his return to Town?", Georgiana asked pensively. It had not escaped her notice that Charles Bingley's usually friendly and open character seemed subdued and deflated and without its normal vigour since he had returned from Hertfortshire at the end of last year. "So, Mr. Bingley loved Miss Bennet and she loved him… and you broke them up?"

"Yes. Actually, I do not think he was far away from proposing to her last November. Until I intervened, that is."

Geogiana nodded slightly. "I can see that Miss Elizabeth would not take this intervention lightly if she believes you to be instrumental to her sister's unhappiness."

"_That_ is an understatement, believe me."

Silence fell in the room, only disturbed by the crackling of the fire and Darcy's occasional ministrations to the logs on the grate. His sister contemplated his silouette, not really seeing him, though. His admissions of the last half hour had thoroughly upset the image Georgiana had of her brother until this day. He had confessed to behaviour that she would have not believed him capable of, given that around herself he always acted so differently from the man he described himself to be in his retelling of his acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth.

"So, she _was_ right to accuse you of arrogance, conceit and disdainfullness?", she asked softly. Darcy ceased his poking of the fire and after another moment simply nodded, still staring down into the flames.

She didn't really want to… but she had to know. "What about behaving dishonourable?" Her voice was barely audible.

Darcy would not answer for a long while. Then he took a deep breath before he replied to his sister's question quietly. "I will not go into details… but she was right on this point, too." He hesitated. "Up to the point that I felt compelled to offer for her again as a way to make amends."

Georgiana held her breath, unable to move and gaping at his back. Not in her wildest dreams could she have imagined she would ever hear her brother say such words.

Since she wouldn't react to his confession, Darcy turned around to his sister and registered the shock that was clearly written across her face. "I did not force myself on her, if that is what you believe," he whispered hurriedly to assure her.

"I did not think that is what you did," she replied, unsure of whether she actually believed what she just said or whether she just hoped it to be her true conviction.

Darcy felt devastated and sagged into his chair again, burrying his head in his hands. "Georgie, I'm so sorry. I am so sorry I am telling you all this. I should have not done that. I should have not burdened you with my failures. What must you think of me? Forgive me."

"No, do not apologize, Fitz. I am glad you shared your despair with me. I am glad you trusted me enough to do so. And I will not censure your behaviour because you know, if there is anyone in this world who should understand what misguided things love and desperation can make a person do, it would be me, right?"

Darcy raised his head and smiled lovingly at his sister. "At least, you had the excuse of your youth to explain your actions."

But Georgiana would not have it and replied without hesitation. "And you have the excuse of your loneliness and isolation."

Her brother raised his eyebrows quizzically. "I am not lonely or isolated – I have _you_."

"Oh, no, Fitz." She shook her head with determination. "I mean, of course, you have me. But I am your sister. Your _young_ sister. I am hardly what you really need." She leaned towards him and took his hands in hers, intently looking into his eyes. He seemed so young, defeated and unguarded right now. "You lost Mother when you were ten years old. After that, Father was difficult at best and what little compassion he openly showed he gave to George. I was a baby and no help, either. Over the years you lost George as a brother and friend… and then we lost Father five years ago. You had to become Master of Pemberly at a very young age, making you the target of all those scheming men seeking an advantage or those mercenary mothers and daughters of the _ton_ who want you for what you represent and not of who you are inside. And on top of it you had to shoulder the responsibility of being the guardian to your sister." She lowered her gaze for a moment. _And I made your life even harder and lonelier by nearly eloping with George_. But she didn't voice that thought aloud – this was not about her regrets for her past follies. This was about _him_. And the confidante she could finally be for him. "Practically no family and only a couple of true friends but an overwhelming burden of responsibility at a young age. Fitz – you are the loneliest person I could think of. And it breaks my heart," she nearly whispered the last sentence.

She looked into his eyes again. Firmly. "You need someone to share yourself with. Your life. Your love. Someone who holds your heart. _And keeps it safe_. Who lifts you up when you are down, who shares your joy and your devotion. Who walks by your side hand in hand no matter what the Lord decides to present you with in your life. Who calls you out when you are disagreeable. Who understands you and makes you laugh. Who loves you so utterly and completely like you are ready to love in return. Someone to fill Pemberly with the life of happy family again. _Your_ family."

Darcy squeezed the hands of his sister tightly in gratitude. She gave him a compassionate smile in return when she went on. "Your heart knows all that. It knows what it needs. What _you_ need. What you _deserve_. And it seems you have found that someone your heart desires to fulfill all its needs. And so it latches itself onto that other soul with all the might it can muster. But you are not used to letting your heart decide for you and so everything came crashing down in this huge mess."

Darcy looked to the ground, oddly consoled by his sister's words and yet, the extend of the loss he had experienced was even clearer now than before. It left him deflated. "Yes, I have lost the one woman that could have made me whole."

The ultimateness of her brother's statement raised a formerly unknown wave of determination in Georgiana. _No, this will not do._ She could not accept his devastation and hopelessness, never to live a life of hapiness with the woman he obviously loved so much. She stood from her chair and approached her still seated brother to cup his face in her petite hands, looking down on him with loving eyes. "I refuse to accept that."

Darcy sighed loudly, averting his eyes. "No, Georgie, listen – "

"No, _you_ listen!" She cut him off, quietly but insistently. "Is she currently in love with or courted by someone else?"

"Uh-oh.. no, not that I know of. No." He replied utterly confused by the sudden change in the conversation, staring up at her again.

"Do you truly love her?

"Yes, more than I can tell." He nodded.

"Is she worth it?"

"Yes." Darcy breathed in a whisper that was still full of emotion.

For a moment, Georgiana marveled at her beloved brother in silence before she continued with determination in her voice.

"_Then do not give her up_. _We Darcys do not give up like that._ Get up and fix this mess. Right the wrongs you have committed. Better yourself where you are lacking character. And then – you will try again. You will go to her and show her who you really are. The _true_ Fitzwilliam Darcy. The one I know. The one I am proud of. The one I love. _The one who will be worthy of her love_."

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_**A/N: If not posted yet, please find the development of upcoming chapters in my story diary on my status page.**_


	6. Chapter 6 - Overcoming old roles

**_A/N: Thank you everyone for your overwhelming response to the last chapter! I confess, I was blown away :-) To be honest, that chapter wasn't even planned to come out like that but Georgiana basically kidnapped and ran away with it (Good girl!). As a result, this chapter was necessary (from my POV) to back up Georgiana's "show of force". Again, as always, I apologize for my ridiculous posting schedule. Believe me, I would give my left foot for being able to post more often! LOL! Oh, and as an inside joke for those who have been following my story diary on my profile page (*hint hint*), yes, I happen to be on vacation AGAIN while I post this chapter. :-) You peeps are the best!_**

**_PS: I post this from my Ipad which messed up my formatting when I copied the text over to FFN (hyjacking the doc of "Love can help me know my name"), so if something looks funny, that's why..._**

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**Chapter 6 - Overcoming old roles**

Early next morning, Darcy came down the stairs in good spirits. For the first time since he had returned from Rosings, he had slept well and felt rested. He also found that he was hungry like a wolf. And he felt a little restless, like a race horse shortly before the race. He wanted to... well, just start... start over.

Since the unexpected intimate conversation with his sister the day before he felt a sense of hope and determination he had believed lost for good since leaving Rosings. He could not foresee if anything could be salvaged in regard to Elizabeth, but Georgiana was right - wallowing in self-pity and despair was not a real option, either. He had promised Elizabeth to heed her criticism and change the man he was for the better, even if she would not be at his side to witness it. It was time to approach this task and start with righting the wrong he had done to his best friend in interfering in his blossoming relationship with Miss Bennet.

He reached the door of the small breakfast parlor that they preferred over the grander, official one and stopped at its doors when he saw that his sister was already seated at the table, holding a cup of coffee in mid-air and gazing pensively out the windows. He was oddly struck by the air of serenity and contentment that emanated from her, something he could not remember to have witnessed in her for a long time. _Or ever, for that matter._

He couldn't shake the feeling that so much about Georgiana was new. In the course of the last day, he had witnessed so many firsts about her, he was still reeling from trying to grasp it all. The sister that talked to him yesterday had only little resemblance left with the girl she used to be before. _Before Ramsgate. Before.. ever._

Georgiana had not noticed his presence yet, and seeing her like that, Darcy could not help but reminisce about their life together.

For as long as he could think back, Georgiana had always been his little sister. As in _little_… As in _child_. Darcy so clearly remembered having played hide and seek with her within the vast halls of Pemberley or the gardens, her sitting on his lap when he used to play the piano for her, reading her bedtime stories when she couldn't sleep at night. It seemed like only yesterday that she would rather run to him than Mrs Reynolds or her nurse for him to dry her tears when she had fallen to the ground or off the swing or that he happily endured innumerable tea parties as the only guest of her party of dolls. And although their father had always considered it too childish and girlish for his heir to indulge Georgie with these activities, Darcy had always loved it. He had always cherished his time with her in her little carefree world of play and joy as it had reminded him of the loving family they once used to be… before his mother had died.

For the first ten years of his life he had been on the receiving end of his parents love and care. Loved, cherished and coddled as their first born and proud heir, he had grown up with the mutual attention of his mother and father who had always made time to spend their days with him, including him into their respective responsibilities to prepare him for his future life as Master of Pemberley. And although his days had been filled with lessons, practice, exercise and responsibilities from very early on, his parents always had let their love for him guide their words and actions. When Darcy thought back to those days now, it always seemed like a piece of heaven and bliss.

And then his little piece of heaven had shattered into a million pieces of dark nothingness with the death of this mother. With the addition of Georgiana to their family, it had seemed as if all other members of it had vanished. His mother dead and gone, his father broken beyond recognition by her death, his love and care for his children gone as well, drowned by immeasurable grief that manifested itself by his retreat into a stern but loveless display of honour, duty and responsibilities. Darcy believed to this day that his father's heart had died alongside with his mother, basically leaving him an orphan in matters of the heart. A situation he had shared with his baby sister who had never known her parents' love as he had to begin with, her mother dead and her father uninterested in her.

So at the age of ten, Darcy had undertaken the task of being Georgiana's emotional anchor in life. Loved her, pampered her, humoured her. Being the big brother he always had wanted to be, caring for the little sister he had waited for for so long.

But when their father had died five years ago and he had to take over the steering wheel of the Darcy family, Pemberley and their general position in high society, it was as if the brother in him had to take a step back and let the head of the family take over the care of little Georgiana, then 11 years of age. No more tea parties with her dolls, no more hide and seek. He could barely make the time to go riding with her across Pemberley's beautiful woods or play the piano for her. He just had so much to do, so much to think of – and he had had so little experience. So he immersed himself in his work and new responsibilities, determined to prove himself to his family and peers, to live up to the code of honour and duty as a Darcy, installed in him since his youngest years.

_Georgie paid the price for it. After never having met Mother, then losing our uninterested, distant Father, I estranged her from me with all the work I had to do, all the places I had to be, all the functions I had to attend… basically leaving her alone. At the hands of servants and companions. All family practically gone from her immediate life. All loving care handed over to paid hands. Often for many weeks, sometimes months in a row._

_I'm so sorry, dearest. I should have not abandoned you so. Is it really surprising that you fell for Wickham's treacherous whispers of love and care? Someone we considered some form of extended family at some point in time? And that scoundrel has a devilish talent to appear caring, pleasing and attentive. No wonder he seemed able to fill the gaping hole I left in your heart._

_You turned towards him, away from me, just as I had turned away from you. And he took and hurt you, leaving you broken and retreated into yourself. Thus, through my own doing I lost the last of my family. Even though I found you and brought you home, the sister you were before got lost at Ramsgate. For a long time I only saw a shell of what used to be My Little One wandering the halls of Pemberley, like a shadow whispering through the dark corners of our home. You stayed away. From yourself. From me._

_So, I started to change my ways. Stayed home more. Worked less. Stopped socializing completely. Taking every painstaking and agonizing attempt to lure you from your shell, rediscover what was left of my sister in the person sharing the table with me. At length, fractions of you started to show themselves, hesitantly, shyly. Probing, testing. Your surrounding. Me._

_Now, out of nowhere, you have come back to me. With a vengeance. Still so young, yet so wise already. Educated and steeled by reality. Renewed. No longer a child, but a young woman._

_In my time of need and weakness, you rise out of the shadows changed, grown, different. Stronger…. To extent your love and understanding to this least deserving brother of yours who abandoned you when you needed him most. Armed with words of wisdom and embraces of love and care._

Breaking from the reminiscence and returning his attention to the breakfast room, Darcy's eyes studied this young woman before him for some long moments as a wave of love and pride for his sister rolled through his soul. Yes, she was definitely changed. A new Georgiana. An older one. Wiser. Somehow she seemed to have put Ramsgate behind her. That alone was reason enough to feel celebratory.

He turned towards the footman. "Please, leave us alone and close the doors. We are not to be disturbed unless it is an urgent matter that needs our immediate attention." With a short bow, the footman executed his orders.

He walked over to Georgiana and placed a kiss on the crown of her head, resting his cheek on it, his hands on her shoulders, eyes closed.

Georgiana greeted him with a bright smile. "Good morning, brother. I hope you have rested well?"

Darcy kept his eyes closed for a few more moments and smiled. "I have indeed, thank you, dearest." He opened his eyes again, and placed another quick peck on Georgiana's hair, and then made his way to the breakfast buffet, getting himself a cup of coffee before sitting down at the table across from his sister.

He was still smiling.

"Well, I will be honest with, you, Fitz, I love you just the way you are, but your smile makes loving you _so_ much easier."

He squinted his eyes in good humour. "I sense a compliment hidden deep down in that statement."

"Of course, there is, but really, I'm just delighted to see you in obviously much better spirits this morning than you were since you returned from Rosings," she replied happily.

Darcy lowered his eyes. "That's your fault. Talking to you yesterday... I... we..." He struggled with the words, overcome by gratitude but also embarrassment about having let his sister see him in such a state the day before. "Talking to you helped me clear my head, and I'm very thankful to you for that."

Georgiana reached across the table and placed a hand on his free one, squeezing it reassuringly. "Do not mind, Fitz, really."

He traced the rim of his coffee cup with a finger, deep in thought. "Come to think of it, it was inappropriate to share myself with you this way. I am your older brother and my troubles should be of no concern to you. And yet, it consoled me greatly to tell you about all of it."

"Honestly, how can you say that? That your troubles should be of no concern to me? Granted, I am young and a woman and I do not believe it appropriate for you to share _all_ your thoughts and feelings in regard to women with me -" She rolled her eyes theatrically at him, before turning earnest and pensive again, "-but to say, your troubles should not be of my concern? Who else's should they be, then, if not your sister's? Richard's?"

"Heavens, no!" Darcy snorted with a partly shocked, partly amused expression on his face.

"Fitz, you are my brother, not my father. Although you acted a lot like one over the last years. You have changed greatly ever since you took on that role in my life - and not all for the better, I might add. You became very distant. And I missed you. I missed you a lot - _as my brother_. And if it takes me growing up, so that you can to drop the role as father and come back to me as my beloved older _brother_, then I will do it. Because I really, really miss you as _that_." A loving smile settled on her face. "I crave to be more of a sister to you again and less your daughter." Her smile turned into a smirk. "And don't fret about it - you still get to protect and pamper and spoil me... As is your custom."

Darcy's lips twitched lightly, a small grin fleeting over his face. „Pray tell, _who are you?_ And what have you done to my sister?" He looked at her intently.

Her gaze turned pensive and roamed over her brother's face. "I think, she just grew up." She paused momentarily before she continued quietly. "In part because she was forced to... and in part because it was time for her... I only want you to be truly happy. I can not think of anyone who would deserve it more than you do. And I think, that includes you taking a little bit more care of yourself and a little less of others - including me. You have done so much for me... it is time that I do something for you. Growing up and fixing _my_ mess is the first step. Being able to help _you_ for a change helps _me_ picking myself up from the ground."

Her words tugged painfully at his heart, knowing full well she referred to the aftermath of the Ramsgate desaster. He hated that she had to go through that experience and still believed, he was to blame for it, and yet he was in awe of what conclusions she seemed to have drawn from it within the last weeks and months... and what strength.

"You have changed, my dear. A lot. I barely recognize you. In a good way," Darcy added with a small smile. "You seem so much... stronger. Older, even. Talking to you feels different than before. Like we share more common ground. Like we understand each other better. More like equals... It is hard to put into words."

"I know what you mean - I can feel it, too." She looked at him directly. He felt somewhat scrutinized. "And we _are_ a lot more like equals, even despite the difference in age. And do you know why that is?"

Somehow, to him that sounded more like a question a teacher asked a pupil, expecting a specific answer, one the teacher already knew. So, he played along. "Tell me."

"Because you have changed, too. For me. By talking with you yesterday." She held his gaze while her brother furrowed his brows in puzzlement. She explained further. "I learned a lot about you yesterday. And about me as a result. Listening to you telling your story concerning Miss Elizabeth, listing all your faults and misdeeds, your wrongful assumptions and actions, was like lifting the veil from my eyes. You know, for as long as I can remember, you have always been firmly installed on a pedestal for me. My big brother, almost my father-figure. The Master of Pemberley. Doer of all that is good and holy. The protector and knower of propriety and discipline, of honour and conduct. Prince in shining armour, larger than life. In two words - perfect and infallible."

Darcy swallowed audibly, shaking his head. "Well, I'm not."

"Exactly." She nodded slightly.

He felt crushed. He had let her down. "I'm so sorry for disappointing you," he whispered hoarsely and he felt in danger of his eyes welling up. But he was surprised by Georgiana's sudden look of shock on her face.

"Oh, no! No! That is not what I meant! I did not tell you this to say that you disappointed me - because you did not! I told you this to _thank you_."

Darcy's brows shot up in incredulity. "Thank me?!"

Georgiana got up from her chair and took a seat next to her brother, clasping his right hand in hers.

"Yes, to _thank you_. And you know why? Because by realizing that you are just as fallible and imperfect as any other human being, I finally understood that it was wrong to put you on that pedestal. Because you are down here, with the rest of us other mortals. A human being. _Just like me_."

Tears sprang in her eyes, spilling quickly and she looked suddenly stricken. "With what happened with George... Do you know what the worst thing was about it? What nearly destroyed me? Day after day, ever since?" Her voice broke several times.

Darcy only shook his head once, holding his breath.

"It was the belief that I had disappointed you. That I let you down because I could not live up to your standard of perfection."

Her brother now shook his head vigorously and whispered pleadingly, "no, no, no," but Georgiana just continued, now openly crying.

"Do you know how hard it was to just look you in the eyes? Be in the same room with you? To even let you embrace me? When I was so unworthy of the love and attention of my perfect, infallible brother? Me, who broke all the rules of propriety, honour and conduct? How could you still love me, respect me?"

Tears started running down Darcy's cheeks as he watched his sister unload all the hurt and repressed emotions of the last months. Feelings he had had no knowledge of. He had never assumed that he had been part of the problem for her and his heart broke again over the pain she had endured all by herself.

He pulled her into a crushing hug and whispered tearfully, "you did not disappoint me, you did not. You must believe me. I _never, never ever_ thought that, not for a moment."

"I believe you. But you must understand that this was what I believed. As I said, for me you were up there, on your pedestal, looking down on me, the sinner, shaking your head. I feared your disapproval and your contempt. But I know better now." She squeezed him tightly again and then pulled back a little to look at him through glistening eyes.

"When you opened up to me yesterday with all that you had done and said, I finally realized that you are not _up there_. And that you _do not belong_ there, either. That I was wrong to put you on that pedestal. That you are down here, as imperfect and fallible as any human being. That you are here - _with me_. Within my reach, palpable. That I am not alone, but you are next to me. That I should no longer be afraid of you because you are _my equal_."

Darcy sighed deeply and just looked at his sister for some long moments, thoroughly shaken by his sister's confessions. "I do not know what to say. The Lord knows I am far away from being perfect and I had no idea that you thought about me that way. I apologize for being so blind to your struggles."

Georgiana pushed her hands against his chest. "Stop apologizing, Fitz. None of this is or was your fault. So stop making this about you because it is not. Let me claim this epiphany for myself because it helps me to grow up and be myself."

Darcy nodded. "So be it." He paused, then sighed quietly. "You know what feels good?"

"Mmm. Pray tell?

"To have my sister back." He smiled at her with his eyes telling of all his love for her.

Georgiana grinned brightly back at him. "And I just _love_ to have my brother back."

Darcy enveloped her into another hug and squeezed her tightly. "I am so proud of you," he whispered into her hair. "Do not grow up too much too fast, Little One. Promise?"

She smiled into his comforting chest. "I will see what I can do... _old man_," she added mockingly.

Darcy snorted playfully. "Steady, steady, you foal!" Then he leaned back to look at her face and a huge smile engrossed his face. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Fitz. More than I can tell."

They held each other's gazes for a long moment in content silence, filled with all their feelings, those voiced and those left unsaid. Eventually, Georgiana sighed softly, breaking the spell.

"Speaking of Richard... Does he know about Miss Elizabeth?"

"You mean, about what occured in Hunsford?"

"Yes."

"No, he does not. I mean, of course, he knows her. We called at her and her friend, the parson's wife, multiple times and also spent some dinners at Rosings together. But no, he does not know about my feelings for her... or my proposal." He looked at her intently. "And I would like for it to stay that way. When we left Rosings, he made some comments which let me to believe that his instincts got alerted to my strange behaviour... but let us hope, that is as far as his awareness goes on this matter."

Georgiana nodded in understanding. Her head turned toward the windows. "The weather is so nice. Should we take a walk in the park and enjoy the day?"

He shook his head. "I would love to, but I have to attend to other matters first."

"Charles?"

He shook his head again, this time with incredulity and awe. "Stop reading my mind!"

"This I can not promise. I like a good read," she replied, smug smile firmly in place.

Darcy could all but gape at his sister as he was dumbfounded by her playful impertinence that reminded him so much of the woman he loved.

"Good Lord, you sound like her. You two would get along so brilliantly well..." He muttered wistfully.

Georgiana narrowed her eyes in determination. "_Will_, Fitz. _Will_ get along. Think positive."

The playful smile that crept onto his face made him look younger than he had since his sister came home. "Oh, dear! Between your new you and her, I will be doomed."

She wiggled her eyebrows. "I can not wait to meet her and witness that first hand. But we are getting ahead of ourselves... Which is why I will no longer keep you from going about talking to Charles." She laid a hand at his cheek, gazing at him intently. "One step at a time."

Darcy looked at her for a second, then planted a kiss on her cheek before he got up and strode from the breakfast room with newly found purpose. The words Georgiana had spoken to him in the course of the last 24 hours had managed to renew his faith in her, in himself and in his strength. Furthermore, her firm conviction that he deserved a life of happiness with Elizabeth and that she was not out of his reach, yet, had awakened a new determination to put all these revelations he had drawn from the rejection of his marriage offer into action. And then to see what could come out of it.

_One step at a time_, he thought to himself, as he stepped out of the front door of his house into his waiting carriage.

The first one being Charles.


	7. Chapter 7 - Overcoming guilt

**(rather longish) A/N: Well, what can I say? No, I'm not dead and no, I have not fallen off the face of the Earth. You might want to blast me off of it for not updating in nearly 6 months, though…  
Let me just say, this was a bad winter season in terms of the health of my family. To put it mildly. I caught the real flu shortly after my last update, the one that gets you in a hospital for 4 weeks and off your feet for a total of 8. Then Christmas happened, my daughter broke her arm, my husband got hit by a car, my son got pneumonia, not to mention the various rounds of stomach flu, bronchitis and other lovely deseases people happen to contract during winter time. Insert into all this the fact that due to being sick for so long, I took to **_**reading**_** a lot more than to writing, and with all that happening, my posting schedule went from atrocious to abysmal…**

**So, here is chapter 7. What makes me boiling with anger is that I had this chapter written almost completely back in October already, but it never felt right (especially Bingley's initial reaction), so I would start to re-write and edit it over and over again.. until I stopped counting. **_**And**_** writing. But since it's not altogether bad and my last update is nearly as old as Jane Austen's original publication of P&amp;P, I thought, I rather get it out in the open. I might edit it at a later time.**

**Actually, I have created a Facebook profile for my FFN account ("Ansujali's fanfiction"), which will probably supersede my profile status updates, so that you can all berate me there for my lack of frequent updates… or actually talk to me when you're not throwing rotten tomatos at me :-)**

**Thank you all for your continued interest. Btw – geez, over 300 followers? I'm all emotional over here – you guys are the best!**

* * *

On his way over to Bingley House, Darcy was looking out of the window of his carriage but without seeing the busy London streets pass before it. He was deep in thought about how to address the issue of his involvement in his friend's separation from Miss Bennet. The last days had seen a landslide of revelations about his character, set in motion by Elizabeth - _Miss Elizabeth!_ he scolded himself - then developed further by himself and brought to a disturbing conclusion by his surprisingly insightful sister, so that Darcy just could not help himself but feel apprehensive. Up to this point in life, he had always believed his actions to be rooted in logic, loyalty, propriety and honesty. The last days had shown him that he had drifted off of that righteous street into muddy territory more often than he was able to comprehend and - most unfortunately - more often than not especially in regard to the people he cared about most.

He knew what he had to do and he was determined to be as open and forthcoming toward Charles as was possible but he still felt anxious about his friend's reaction... and what it could mean for their friendship.

After Darcy's arrival had been announced to the master of the house, as was his custom, Bingley bounded down the stairs to welcome his best friend personally. Although Darcy had known about Bingley's dampened spirits after their retreat from Hertfortshire, it was only now that he also realized the shadows underneath his friend's light eyes for the first time. He wondered if they were a new addition to Bingley's features or if he had been so inattentive that he simply had not noticed before. Either way, to Darcy it was just another reminder of how much he had to make amends with his friend, dearly hoping that he would be given the chance to do so at all.

"Darcy! Good to see you! What brings me the pleasure of your visit?" Bingley greeted him while shaking his hand. His words were jovial, but the tone of his voice was lacking its usual effusiveness, Darcy noticed.

"To be honest with you, Bingley, I fear you will not find much pleasure in my visit as I have come to make a confession."

Bingley looked taken aback. "Gracious, Darcy! This sounds serious! Let us retire to my study where we have more privacy." He waved with this his arm to lead the way.

After they had each settled into the comfortable chairs of the study and Bingley had called for some tea, he addressed his friend again with curiosity in his voice.

"So tell me Darcy, what exactly is that confession that you want to make?"

The addressed gentlemen uncomfortably shuffled with his feet and looked down at his hands. "I am here to talk about my ill service to you as a friend in your dealings regarding Miss Jane Bennet."

.

* * *

.

Darcy concluded in addressing his friend directly with his Christian name.

"Charles… I sincerely apologize. I was wrong. Wrong in my assessment of Miss Bennet's feelings for you. And wrong in meddling with your affairs in this way altogether."

Charles Bingley had not raised his eyes from the pen in his hand that he had been toying around with while Darcy had confessed his involvement in their retreat from Netherfield last November. Darcy could not even decipher the current state of mind from his friend's face – an unusual occurrence since Bingley usually carried his feelings openly for everyone to see on his features and his tongue. Instead, his friend only watched his pen rotate in his hand with an almost expressionless mien.

As with Elizabeth in the parsonage, Darcy was at a loss at what to do – not getting a reaction at all to his confession was not what he had expected… and it was something he did not know how to handle. But whatever it was, it was not good. He felt his heart sink.

"I could understand if you chose not to speak to me again. I should leave and no longer bother you. Again I am truly sorry. I hope one day you will be able to forgive me," Darcy went on. He rose from his seat and started to turn towards the door of the study.

"Why?" came Bingley's quiet, but obviously controlled voice from behind. Darcy stopped in his tracks and turned around.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, _why_?" Bingley repeated in the same tone, his eyes fixing their gaze on Darcy's.

Darcy was slightly confused. "You mean, why did I talk you out of pursuing Miss Bennet?"

Bingley did not even blink but kept his stare steady on Darcy. "No, that is not what I mean."

Darcy shook his head slightly, now more confused than before but not breaking Bingley's gaze. "I must apologize, Charles, but I do not have the privilege of understanding your question."

Now Bingley shook his head barely visible, then lowered his eyes again to observe his hands fiddle with the pen. "I mean, why is it that you believe it necessary to meddle in my life in the first place? Who am I to you? _What_ am I to you?"

"Charles-"

"Do you believe me so weak," Bingley cut him short, "so spineless, so mellow that I would need your constant protection and management, even regarding the things dearest and closest to my heart?"

Darcy's heart fell as he watched the face of his closest friend stricken with disappointment, confusion and anger. He slowly made his way back to the chair in front of Bingley's desk that he had occupied earlier and sat down gravely, burying his head in his hands. "You want my honest opinion?" he said quietly.

"Pray, tell." Charles replied just as quietly.

Darcy rubbed his face with his hands and then raised his eyes to face his friend directly.

"Charles, you are the best man of my acquaintance. And I truly mean it. You know I would not say something like that lightly or in jest. You are honest to a fault, a good-hearted soul if I ever saw one, loyal, trusting, positive, friendly and light-hearted. You bothered to befriend me at Cambridge although I acted indifferent and aloof most of the times. Although I was older and did not encourage you. In your good-naturedness, you dragged me out of my rooms there and away from my studies again and again without relenting, so we could mingle and socialize, something I would have not done on my own because I could not stand it. But with you it became a bearable experience, often even entertaining. It was _you_ who made Cambridge the formative experience for me that it still is to this day - I learned so much from you there although you were younger and came from a family of trade, something I had believed myself above before I met you."

Bingley shifted a little in his chair since he was as surprised as he was taken with Darcy's assessment of his character. His gaze softened.

Darcy watched his fingers trace the contour of his chair's arm rest while he continued.

"In many aspects, I believe you to be a better man than I am. Easier to like, to make new acquaintances, to enjoy life, to trust. Sometimes I wish I had some sort of your openness, although I do not necessarily envy you for all these traits, but of course I realize that they make life in general more agreeable... or at least it seems like it." He sounded almost wistful.

"There is a downside to all those good sides of yours, though," Darcy admitted eventually, raising his eyes again, "and that is that you often are a little too much of all those things for your own good. A little too trusting, a little too positive, a little too agreeable... a little too good. And...," he hesitated for a moment before he continued, slightly uneasy with the topic he was about to address, "you fall in and out of love a little too easy... and too often."

Bingley raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I do not play games, you know that. I just like..."

"I know, you are not playing games with the women you admire. You would never do that. But it would be better to guard your heart a little more closely in such matters - it is a fragile thing. Yours... and theirs."

The room fell silent for a while. Both men did not dare look at the other. It was Bingley who broke the silence in a pensive tone that also carried defeat, his eyes again looking at his hands.

"It was different with Jane, you know."

"I know that now, yes."

Bingley looked at Darcy. "But you did not back at Netherfield?"

Darcy shook his head. "No, I did not. All I saw was the usual pattern of you going for the prettiest lady in the attending crowd and showering her with your attention. You started singling her out and it showed. People took notice, not just Mrs Bennet, although she was easily the most ... well, _outspoken_ about it." He had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the memory of Mrs Bennet's improper conduct. "On top of it," he went on, "I did not know what to think of Miss Bennet herself since she would show no open special regard for you in any way but looked quite indifferent instead. _To me_ \- at that time - it looked like a desaster waiting to happen. You, lured into a marriage on the wings of your usual infatuation with a woman who might have just been driven by her scheming mother... You _are_ a good catch after all. And your character makes you an easy target, to say the truth."

Bingley smiled apologetically and combed his fingers through his hair. He would not hold Darcy's gaze, knowing full well that his friend was right.

"You are my best friend," Darcy concluded, "and you know how protective I can be of those close to me. I would use _all_ my influence to prevent you from getting hurt or hurting yourself if I saw you in danger of losing your heart to an indifferent woman that I believed might only be agreeable in her dealings with you to attract you because of your wealth. I saw it as a service to my closest friend to step in."

"So, you do believe me very weak," Bingley recapped his question from the beginning, realizing that Darcy had never answered it.

"No, I believe you to be too good for your own good... at times."

"And so you feel the need to manage me... at times?"

"I would not-"

But Bingley interrupted him. He sounded confused, even pleading. "I am a grown man, am I not? Head of my family. Looking into becoming Master of an estate. At least, I thought I was. Why is it that _I_ let _you_ \- or my sister, for Heaven's sake! – handle me like that? Who am I?"

"Charles, this is not your fault – "

"Christ, Fitzwilliam! _Of course, it is!_" With this exclamation, Bingley jumped up from his seat behind his desk and started pacing in front of a still dumbfounded Darcy who sat in his chair, rooted to the spot, not understanding how this morning's honest confession of _his_ wrongdoings had suddenly turned into Charles Bingley beating himself up for them.

Bingley kept pacing, talking mostly to himself. "Do I think that you were wrong to influence me the way you did? Yes, I do. I do respect your motivation to intervene, given my history that you so eloquently recited, but you could have easily made me aware of your opinion regarding Jane without pressing me to leave Hertfordshire immediately to avoid further contact with her. You could have left that decision to me if you had believed me to be my own man. But you did not. Because you _do_ believe me too weak to make that decision on my own."

Darcy felt nauseous. He could not decide whether it was because he knew Bingley was right or because Charles was so very aware of it. The way Bingley put it, Darcy would not want to be his own friend. _What gentleman would accept a friend who believed him to be too weak to handle his own affairs, especially those of his heart?_ At this very moment, he had no idea whether he would be able to salvage his most important friendship... or if he was about to lose Bingley for good. He looked to the floor. "I am sorry, Charles. I am truly sorry."

Bingley stopped his pacing abruptly - as if he only now became aware of the fact that he was not alone in his study. "Oh Fitzwilliam, stop it. Yes, you did not act as you should have, but really, this is _my_ fault. This is _not_ about you."

Darcy's head perked up, puzzled. _Now, where did I hear that before? What is it about everyone around me all of a sudden telling me not to make things about me?_

Bingley resumed his pacing, wildly gesturing with his arms. "You acted like you did because _I let you_. Because I am so used to rely on you in so many things that I somehow stopped thinking for myself altogether, it seems! On estate business, evaluating Netherfield from your point of view, having grown up at and being master of such an estate for years now - yes, it made sense to ask for your advice. Your extensive advice. But in matters of my heart? Regarding a woman I truly can see myself blissfully married to, with beautiful children, at an estate? Really, what a whimp was I?!" He shook his head vigorously, angry and exasperated with himself. "Good Lord, I should _thank you_, Darcy, for keeping Jane from getting involved with me - how could I ever take care of her and a family, for that matter, if I cannot even take care of myself? Heavens! I probably should be lucky I can dress myself!"

By now, the situation at hand seemed surreal to Darcy and he could barely keep a wide-eyed grin from spreading on his face. Not only did he realize that Bingley could not keep himself from calling Miss Bennet _Jane_ \- just as much as Darcy could not refrain from calling Miss Elizabeth simply _Elizabeth_ in his mind - but for a second time today someone _thanked_ him for _his_ mistakes. _I do not know what to make of this... _ he thought highly perplexed.

Bingley was still on a roll and kept on going, head still shaking, hands thrusting through his hair. "Oh Jane, I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me? Would I still have a chance? What shall I do?"

Darcy furrowed his brows. "You are not asking _me_, are you?"

"What?" Bingley replied confused as if he had just been reminded of Darcy's presence. "No. Err.. yes. No..Well, I would not know." He stopped his pacing, turning toward his friend, looking lost. "What _would_ you do?"

"Oh no!" the Master of Pemberley exclaimed and held his hands up in mock defense. "I will surely not tell you _again_ what to do, since the last time I did that was such a raving success for all involved... But you should know that according to Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet is still in London right now." Darcy paused. "Whatever you want to do with that information."

Bingley's face lit up with hope and determination. "I will go to her. I will go to her and beg her forgiveness in the hopes that she gives me another chance to prove myself."

"Do you want me to come with you and explain the situation? After all, it _was_ me who was responsible for our departure."

"Gosh, Darcy, no, I definitely do not want you there! You might have influenced me to leave because I let you, but you did not decide to stay away from her. That was purely me. And this is why it can only be _me_ who appears before her to explain _everything_."

A small smile tugged on Darcy's lips. "You _are_ your own man, Bingley - I hope you can see that now."

"No, Darcy. I might be _becoming_ my own man now. The Lord knows, it is high time." He paused for a moment as if deep in thought and then turned to his friend. "You shall still be able to assist me, though."

"Whatever you ask of me, Charles. Just name it."

_I might just be able to save my friendship after all._

**-oOo- -oOo- -oOo-**

"Miss Bennet..." Bingley bowed.

"Mr Bingley." A returned bow.

He stopped dead in his tracks, ruffled a hand through his strawberry blond hair in exasperation and turned around to walk away from his counterpart in the middle of the room.

Another turn. Hesitation. Another approach.

"Miss Bennet... it is a pleasure to see you..." He bowed again.

"Mr Bingley.." Another bow in return.

"May I have the privilege ... No." Bingley groaned in desperation and threw his hands above his head. "No! This does not work!"

"... I wonder why..." The addressee mumbled quietly with an inward eye-roll.

"You are not helping! A bow just feels wrong. It confuses me!"

"I will not curtsy!"

"You do not feel like her at all!"

"I refuse to even _try_ to think of a suitable reply to that statement..."

"Gracious Lord, I think I am doomed."

"You may very well be, my friend. You may well be."

_Welcome to the club._

**-oOo- -oOo- -oOo-**

* * *

_**Author's Notes 2:**_

_For those who have not recognized it, the last bit was my version of the meeting rehearsal between Bingley and Darcy near the end of the 2005 movie version, shortly before Bingley proposes to Jane. In said movie, we never really get to see like a real "buddy/friendship" moment between two men who claim to be best friends since like ever... with the exception of that scene which I always found highly endearing. The sheer thought of "high and mighty" Darcy consenting to "act" Jane Bennet for Bingley to rehearse his address to her makes me grin like a stupid dolt :) It has such a lovely boyish quality for me, shedding some unexpected insight into their closeness as friends within a seemingly short and superficial moment, let alone Darcy's otherwise well concealed playfulness ;-)_


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